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THINKS-I-TO-M YSELF : 



SERIO-LUDICRO, TRAGICO-COMICO 



TALE, 



WRITTEN BY THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF, 



ffiOfJO? 



TENTH EDITION. 



LONDON : 
PRINTED FOR SHERWOOD AND CO. 

1829. 



,HtTr 



PREFACE, DEDICATION, 

INTRODUCTION, 

ADVERTISEMENT TO THE PUBLIC, 

%c. $c. $c. $c.$c. 



The Seventh Edition of " Thinks-I-to-myself ,, 
being called for within nine months from the publica- 
tion of theirs/, it is become almost necessary that 
the Author should return his thanks to the Publie 
for their very favourable reception of it, and for the 
countenance they have given to it. 

Therefore, generous public! I do hereby 
most cordially, most gratefully, most unfeignedly, 
most sincerely, and most humbly thank you for 
the honour conferred upon me : very much admiring 
your refined taste, critical acumen, clear discern- 
ment, and excellent judgment. 

You have indeed been so very kind, and have 
afforded me so great encouragement, unseen and 

B 



2 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

unknown, that you appear almost entitled to my 
very utmost confidence, and to have a regular claim 
to be informed who I really am ; for I find from 
the communications of many correspondents that 
they have been disappointed in looking for me (as 
I advise in my book) in the Peerages and Court 
Calendar ; and that in fact, and to speak the plain 
truth, no such Peers are to be found, as either Lord 
Tay-and-Tumble, or Lord Kilgarnock ; nor of course 
any intimation of their abode and family. 

Who then, can I be ? — 

If I should pretend to " know myself" nobody, 
I am confident, would give me credit ; it w T ould be 
entirely contrary to all experience and all expecta- 
tion, whether ancient or modern, Pagan or Christian. 
I beg leave, therefore, to declare at once, that I 
positively disclaim all such pretensions ; nay, I 
must affirm, that I do not know myself, if the pre- 
sent book, which is undoubtedly all of my own 
writing, be really so clever, droll, and ingenious, as 
some, even of the Reviewers, have pronounced it to 
be. I am not aware, that I am half so comical as 
some persons fancy me to be, and I am very certain, 
that I am not half so severe, as a few others, of whose 
strictures I have been informed, are inclined to 
think me — at all events, I cannot well be both dull 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 3 

and clever too; and yet I know, from indisputable 
authority, that while some have asserted this to be 
a performance truly comic and ludicrous, certain 
other persons, whom I could name, have openly 
and publicly declared it to be as stupid a book as 
ever they read in their lives. I take comfort from 
the old and homely proverb, " The proof of the pud- 
ding is in the eating ;" the Public have eaten al- 
ready four thousand two hundred and fifty of my 
puddings, and as they still call out for more, I hope 
they have not disagreed with their stomachs, nor 
offended their palates. 

While it remains, however, a mystery to the 
world in general, who I am, I can safely say, it is 
become a greater mystery than ever to myself, to 
declare what I am. Some, I find, think me wise ; 
some think me very foolish ; some think me bright ; 
some very dull ; some that I am fair and candid in 
my satire ; others, that I am extremely severe and 
cruel. 

In the mean while, I have heard the book as- 
signed to divers persons ; to some whom I know, 
and to some whom I do not know. In the first 
place, I have heard it attributed to Mr. Owen, the 
Author of " The Fashionable World displayed ;" of 
this compliment to my genius, talents, and princi- 

b2 



4 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

pies, I beg that reverend and most respectable 
writer (if he ever chance to meet with this Preface) 
to believe, that I have secretly and silently been 
extremely proud. I care not who fancies me to be 
such a man as Mr. Owen. 

L have heard it given to Mr. Beresford, the au- 
thor of the " Miseries of Human Life." With this 
Gentleman I have the pleasure of being intimately 
acquainted, and a merrier man I know no where ; 
as his happy display of human woes alluded to, may 
lead any person to suppose. I have no reason to 
think he has found me out, but as he happens to be, 
to my certain knowledge, not only merry, but wise 
too, I trust he also will do me the justice to believe, 
that it has been equally a matter of surprize to me, 
to be mistaken for him ; and, if he ever should 
write upon the delights of human life, he has my 
particular leave to put this down among the plea- 
sures of authorship, 

I have heard it attributed to two Gentlemen of 
the same name, I believe I am right in adding, to 
Mr. Robert Nares, and Mr. Edward Nares. The 
former Gentleman is also of my acquaintance, and 
I respect him highly ; so highly, that I must can- 
didly confess, that I believe him to be, every hour 
of his life, more importantly engaged than in the 



THINKS-I-TOMYSELF. D 

fabrication of such trifles ; besides, he is an Arch- 
deacon, and one would hope, that the dignity of his 
station might well avert from him, all suspicion of 
such an employment ; though I verily believe that 
he is capable of laughing as opportunely, and of 
thinking to as much purpose, as any-body in the 
world. It is a matter of absolute fact however (as 
I apprehend), that he has been accused of being the 
author, and that he has publicly disavowed it in the 
following notification which I read in one of the 
Monthly Registers : " We can assure our facetious 
correspondent Wits-end, that, as far as our informa- 
tion goes, * Thinks-I-to-myself ? was not written 
either by a Deacon or an Archdeacon; he may find 
a hint perhaps in Ferrarius ' de incognitis.' " 

Of the latter Gentleman, Mr. Edward Nares, I 
have but very little to say, having (as I can most 
safely affirm) never had the honour of being intro- 
duced to him ; having never so much as once met 
him in all my life ; nor ever corresponded with him. 
How he came to be suspected of being the author 
I am wholly at a loss to say. I am acquainted 
with some works which bear his name, written in a 
style so different, that any body, one would think, 
would acquit him of such levities. I have, however, 
great reason to believe that he is a firm friend to 



6 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

the Constitution both in Church and State, as well 
as to the House of Brunswick ; and so far we are 
certainly in agreement. 

I have heard it assigned to a person least of all 
perhaps likely to be the real author ; though there 
is certainly no saying to what he might not apply 
his very extraordinary and multifarious talents — I 
have been credibly informed that a wager was once 
laid that the book was written by Lord Eeskine ! 
I relate the fact as I heard it — Lord Erskine the 
writer of a novel ! I ! ! — Any body will allow, that I 
may be proud of this compliment, and so I am — 
and happy 'into the bargain. First, because, if there 
were really no wit at all in it, his Lordship would be 
decidedly the last man in the whole world to be sus- 
pected ; and secondly, because the good nature and 
liberality of that noble and learned Lord are notori- 
ously such, that whoever could suppose it to proceed 
from his pen, must certainly have found in the book 
no marks of malevolence or personal spite ; no wan- 
ton abuse of the age ; no unfair satire. 

Thus far as to the supposed authors. It may be 
perhaps proper to add, that I have positively never 
once heard it attributed to any of the Cabinet 
Council, or Bench of Bishops ; to the Lord Mayor 
of London, or to Lucien Bonaparte. 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 7 

As then I cannot undertake even yet to tell you 
by whom, or even by what sort of being, the book 
was really written, (for so different does it appear to 
me now, to what it did, when it first went out of my 
hands, that I can scarcely persuade myself at times, 
that I really did write it,) yet if it be so, I am very 
willing to inform you, as far as I am able to do it, 
exactly how it was written ; for this, in my own 
estimation, requires some notice and explanation. 

I do therefore positively assure you, that the 
original story was all written in the short space of 
ten days, without the smallest view to publication ; 
with so little plan, design, or premeditation, that the 
ink could not flow more freely and uninterruptedly 
from my pen, than the thoughts and ideas did from 
my brain ; so that whoever has, in the first place, 
fancied they have discovered in it the portraiture of 
any particular persons, are wonderfully mistaken. 
I can solemnly say, I do not myself know either 
Mrs. Twist, or Mrs. Fidget. If I have ever seen 
such characters, I forget now where it was ; if any 
body ever meets with those ladies, I cannot help it ; 
I meant nothing personal in bringing them forward . 
I never set my foot in Nicotium Castle in my life, 
and do not really live at Grumblethorpe, as the 



8 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

book pretends, and therefore not in Mrs. Fidget's 
neighbourhood* 

In the second place, if any body has expected to 
find in the work, such an order and arrangement of 
events, as might be deemed critically correct, and 
according to the strict rules of art, I am very cer- 
tain they must have been greatly disappointed, 
since nothing could be farther from my thoughts 
and aim while I was writing it. That some of my 
readers have been so disappointed I have reason to 
conclude from the strictures of the Critics, I mean 
the Reviewers ; almost all of whom, much to their 
credit, have discovered in it great symptoms of 
haste, carelessness, and want of arrangement, which 
indeed, were they not to be detected in such a com- 
position, I should scarcely dare to own the book at 
all, for I should be morally certain that it could not 
well be mine, so apt am I in common to forget all 
the rigid rules of art, when I merely seek to express 
some particular feeling or sentiment. The Monthly 
Reviewers have particularly charged me with incon- 
sistencies, and other lapses of the above nature. 

The same able Critics have also, it seems, found 
out, that M some of the Poems are very indifferent" — 
So they are ; I know it as well as they ; but they 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 9 

contain sentiments which I wished to propagate; 
and I should have heaped inconsistency upon in- 
consistency, had I made a Clodpole write better. 
Whether my true character is to be found under 
the title Clodpole, I shall not pretend to say ; but 
that is my character in the book ; and I believe they 
will find, that not one of the Poems is ostentatiously 
obtruded upon the public, as any mighty effort of 
taste or genius. If in fact, and after all, I should 
not be, in my real character of the Clodpole race, 
the Reviewers cannot know but that privately I am 
a poet of the first stamp — perhaps the Apollo of the 
age. I only maintain, as the book itself says, that 
these poems are tolerably good for a Clodpole, and 
that they are left to every reader's yriy&te feeling and 
civility. See vol. i. p. 179. 6th edit. 

The Editors of the British Critic, in reviewino* 
my book, seem to make sure that they have dis- 
covered me, and are pleased to tell the public, that 
" whoever knows the person they suppose to be the 
Author, will be little surprised to find on paper the 
reflection of that natural and unaffected humour, 
which has always rendered him a favourite in the 
social circle/' Gentlemen, I hope yov do know me ; 
I hope you have found me out; I am very much 
obliged to you indeed ; and shall be happy to see 



10 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

any of you to dinner, any day you will please to 
appoint : you know where I live of course. 

It pleases me much to see that some of the Re- 
viewers praise the very parts I have heard found 
fault with, while others find fault with the very 
parts I heard commended. Now it is so very natural, 
as to be the very easiest thing in the world, to per- 
suade myself, that in the first instance, the Review- 
ers are right, and in the last the public. And thus, 
though I am by constitution terribly touchy, being 
all nerves from head to foot, I manage to reconcile 
matters, and to go to bed every night in good 
humour with one party at least. 

Some fine ladies, and fine gentlemen, have not 
been pleased I know, with what I have inserted in 
the 2d Vol, concerning the nursing of children ; yet 
the benevolent Editor of the Universal Magazine 
has judged this part important enough to be parti- 
cularly selected as a specimen of the author's good 
intentions, and of the utility of his observations. 
If any persons of respectability, however, are really 
tired of it, I will willingly cut it out, and they shall 
not be pestered with it again, that is to say, in any 
of the next hundred editions that are soon to appear. 
I will also undertake to omit any other parts that 
give ^ny just offence, only pray let the work go on, 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 1 1 

because as I could get not one of the booksellers to 
buy it, I shall possibly reap considerable profit in 
the end, if it proceeds as it has done ; and why- 
it should not I do not know, any more than I know 
why it should; two points I still most humbly sub- 
mit to be settled, determined, and adjusted by the 
Public at large. The booksellers were not to blame 
for not buying it, for how could they have ever 
guessed that it would have had such a run ? I am 
sure I never expected it myself; so that they missed 
an excellent bargain, for I should have sold it for a 
song. In fact after it was written, it literally lay 
for at least eight months among my loose papers, 
unthought of, and unmeddled with, and would, I 
am almost certain, have never been sent to the press, 
but for the persuasion, (and request almost,) of a 
very worthy and valuable female friend and neigh- 
bour, in whose judgment I had the highest reason 
to place a confidence, but who, I grieve to record it, 
did not live to witness the success it has obtained. 

But to return to the Reviewers and Critics of all 
denominations — 

Great objections have been made, and from re- 
spectable quarters, (see the Monthly Review, and 
the public paper called the National Adviser, Dec. 
14—18, 1811.) To the too frequent mention of 



12 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

the bumpings of the hero Mr. Dermont's heart. — I 
actually think myself it does bump too much, but 
then I know that some of my younger readers have 
thought that it does not bump enough. Therefore 
what am I to do ? who knows but my own heart 
may have bumped too much in its progress through 
life ? where was I to find a standard ? indeed I am 
apt to think that nothing would be more difficult 
than to pretend to determine, from the private feel- 
ings of any individual, how many times a lover's 
heart may reasonably be expected to bump (or pal- 
pitate, which is a far more elegant and sentimental 
word) in any given time ; perhaps then, Mr. Review- 
ers, you really know nothing of the matter. 

You observe farther, however, upon the same 
point, that u the reasoning this sensation, (viz. the 
bumping,) into a malady is too broad a burlesque 
for the rest of the work." — I do not object to this 
remark. It is certainly a pretty broad burlesque, 
when supposed to fall entirely upon the sensation 
alluded to : but when the burlesque is halved and 
properly distributed among different objects, per- 
haps its breadth may not appear so extravagant. 
I therefore beg leave to observe that it ought to be 
so divided. Much of the burlesque should be al- 
lowed to fall, as I intended it, not on the love-sick 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 13 

palpitations, but on those books of Symptoms, which 
in the hands of ignorant or hypochondriacal persons, 
not unfrequently (as I apprehend,) work effects of 
no small moment; suggesting abundance of com- 
plaints and maladies, that have no other founda- 
tion in fact, than the mere impression made at the 
moment by the alarming detail of symptoms enume- 
rated. However broad the burlesque may appear, 
I do solemnly protest that when I was at the Uni- 
versity I was called in once to a friend whom I 
found in bed, waiting the arrival of a Physician for 
whom he had sent, and in all the agonies of a most 
gloomy imagination, arising solely from the dis- 
covery of a mark across his forehead attended with 
pain, and which, from consulting his books, he had 
fully made out to be symptomatic of one of the most 
horrible stages of one of the most horrible disorders, 
to which the human frame is liable ; the whole of 
which however w r as brought to a most happy con- 
clusion by my having accidentally questioned him 
whether he had been wearing a new hat! for in 
truth I happened to have seen one lying upon his 
sofa as I entered the room ; had it not been for this 
timely discovery, and had no medical aid been at 
hand, I make no doubt but in a little time he would 
have proceeded to dose himself, with all the remedies 



14 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

applicable to the dreadful symptoms suspected, (to 
be found in the same book) and have swallowed 
things ten times worse than all the salts and gums 
and drugs put together, which I have administered 
to my Hero. The Monthly Revieicers have there- 
fore rather mistaken me upon this point, and I hope, 
the Critical Reviewers also, who have passed the 
following cutting sentence upon this very passage. — 
" Here we have as complete a jargon of nonsense 
administered to us on ipecacuanha, asafcctida, Glau- 
berh-salt, socotrine aloes, jalap, and senna, as any 
Grub-street quill driver ever succeeded in putting 
on paper, with as many repetitions of ' Thinks-I-to- 
myself,' as the author judged proper by way of ma- 
king it witty." Surely the public in general will 
excuse my endeavouring to rescue a part of my 
work, which I know has been understood in its full 
extent by many readers, from the mis-apprehensions 
of such dull observers. 

The worldly and artificial manners of Mr. and 
Mrs. Dermont, as represented at the beginning of 
the story, have been considered by the Monthly 
Reviewers, and by a writer in the Gentleman's Ma- 
gazine, as inconsistent with the wisdom, goodness, 
and piety, attributed to them towards the close of 
my book. I cannot help this — that the artificial 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 15 

manners of the world are inconsistent with wisdom, 
piety, and goodness, is a circumstance I never 
meant to conceal ; but rather to publish and make 
known. Since then the above gentlemen have 
found this inconsistency to be so glaring, I hope 
other readers will do the same, and that a little 
more plain dealing than is now usual in the inter- 
course of rational beings, may come into vogue, and 
be, as far as possible, adopted. Truth, they say, 
(especially in courtly and polite companies,) should 
not be spoken at all times. Granted, but it remains 
to be proved, how far imtruths may be deliberately 
uttered at any time. Swift used often to Think-to- 
himself, as well as I, and he has given it as one of 
his private thoughts, that " an excuse is worse and 
more terrible than a lie, for an excuse is a lie guard- 
ed," — considering then how much excuses enter into 
the ceremonies and forms of modish life, surely I 
am not to blame, for shewing that they generally 
pass current at their true value ; that it is to be 
hoped they are so generally understood, that they 
do not infer so much moral delinquency, as the 
grave remark of the witty Dean of St. Patrick's 
would imply ; though undoubtedly all artificial 
manners should have their limits, that the dissimu- 
lation recommended by Lord Chesterfield, as almost 



H5 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

the sine qua non of courtly fashions, may be kept 
within some bounds of reason and propriety. How 
far "public manners J 9 in general, are "founded in 
truth," I do not pretend to ascertain, but I have 
read some shrewd and excellent remarks upon this 
point, in the Sketches of Truth, a small work, in 2 
vols. 12mo. published in 1808. The xiith sketch 
in the first volume bearing that very title ; to which 
I refer any readers who wish to study the matter 
further. 

The Reviewer in the Gentleman's Magazine, af- 
ter saying many very handsome things of the work 
in general, is pleased to observe, " It appears to 
us, that when the writer began his tale, his ideas 
did not exactly correspond with those that mark its 
conclusion, and it is exceedingly obvious that the 
second volume is eked out more for the purposes of 
the publisher than for the credit of the author." 
Now this gentleman, whoever he be, I take to be 
a conjuror; I won't say exactly why, but he is 
certainly very clever at a conjecture. I cannot say 
indeed I quite like the expression " eked out;" it 
looks as if I had made additions, unnecessary and 
inapplicable, for mean and shabby purposes ; merely 
to extort a little more money from the pockets of 
the public; but this was certainly not the case. 



TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 17 

Writing a good deal at random, I undoubtedly did 
not square my work by rule or measure ; so that 
when the printer tried to squeeze it into one volume 
there was too much, and when he would have di- 
lated it into two # there was somewhat too little , 
partly therefore to accommodate the printer, (the 
worthy and ingenious Mr. Gilbert, of St. John's- 
Square, whom many eminent persons know full 
well) and partly out of compliment to the Metro- 
polis, I carried my Hero to London, though rather 
against his oxen will and inclinations, as he telLs 
you himself in the book, but considering he was 
become a Peer, and one of the sixteen representa- 
tives of the Scotch Peerage, I think I could not 
well have done otherwise ; so that in all senses of 
the word, I judge this part of the work to be rather a 
noble addition, than any paltry "eking out," and whol 
ly in character. If I have said any thing at all un- 
civil of the metropolis, I most humbly beg pardon. 

Objections, I am told, have been made to the 
title of my book. " Thinks I" it seems, is bad 
grammar : so it is to be sure, for w T ho would ever 
be so vulgar as to say I think so and so ? I am not 
surprised that this slip should be detected, now that 
grammar, to the honour of the age, is become so 

* This work was originally published in two toIs. 12mo. 
C 



18 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

indispensable an attainment. The plainest country 
bumpkin, now-a-days, to his honour be it spoken, 
if he has but ever so little money to spare, (and if 
he has none at all it scarcely makes any difference,) 
is careful to carry his girl to the tip-top boarding- 
school of the neighbourhood, and as he presents her 
to the mistress, " Ma'am" says he, "I want my dar- 
ter to larngrammur" So Miss lams grammur, and 
afterwards, to the comfort of the family, if any of them 
by any accident should have any ideas to express, she 
knows to be sure how to express them ; for she has 
all the parts of speech at her fingers' ends, with all 
the stops from a comma to a note of interrogation, 
though after all perhaps she makes no use of any, 
but puts a little dash between every five words 
thus — , and answers an invitation to a Christmas 
party in the following mix'd style : " Mr. and Mrs. 
W. present compliments to Mrs. S. and will wait 
on her at the place and hour appointed. Mrs. W t 
begs to inform Mrs. S., that we will take the liberty 
of bringing my brother Tommy with us. Mr. Mrs. 
and Miss W. beg to be remembered to Miss S/s, in 
which my cousin Alice joins, and all the party unite 
in wishing you a merry Christmas and happy new 
year when it comes." I expected to be taken to task 
by grammarians of this order, and I find it has 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 19 

happened as I expected. I do however freely ac- 
knowledge, that the thoughts I have to express 
often occupy more of my consideration, than the 
grammatical construction of the sentences whereby 
I express them ; not that I would not wish to be 
correct, but that I commonly write so quick as to 
overlook such niceties, especially in colloquial 
phrases. I must, however, observe in defence of 
my poor title, and more especially my adoption 
of it, that I am careful to tell my readers in the 
very commencement of the work, that I regard the 
expression as a mere vulgarism, about as good how* 
ever certainly, as " methoughts," which I would 
have you to know, gentle critics, is to be found 
frequently in the Spectator, and so early, particularly 
as No. 3. Vol. 1. in a paper marked C, and conse- 
quently of Mr. Addison's own writing. After all, 
" Thinks- I-to-?ny self " is no modern phrase, or one 
of my own invention, but an ancient and very com- 
mon one ; and whether I picked it up on my travels 
through life, in a palace, or by the way side, what 
does it matter, if it be particularly applicable and 
significant for the purposes to which I apply it, and 
not likely to mislead any honest person whatso- 
ever? 

I wish I had less to say upon these subjects, but 
g 2 



20 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

the more my book sells, the more anxious I am not 
to conceal any faults which the Reviewers may have 
justly pointed out, and the more desirous, of course, 
to guard the public against any misunderstandings 
or misrepresentations of my actual intentions. How 
difficult it is to please every-body, let a good-natured 
world judge from the following case : The Reviewer 
in the Gentleman's Magazine selects a passage from 
the first volume which he does me the honour to 
say (comparing me with Sterne,) " is equal in true 
point and humour to any of the most popular pas- 
sages of that entertaining writer." The same pas- 
sage is selected by the Reviewer in the British 
Critic, and pronounced to be M though a little Shan- 
dean, highly original." And yet the Critical Re- 
vieivers are so highly offended with it, that they 
can scarce find terms severe and coarse enough to 
express their feelings upon the subject They pro- 
duce this veiy part of the book " as an additional 
proof," they say, " of flippant vulgarity and sheer 
nonsense, whichThinks-I-to-myselfh&s given for wit" 
They beg their readers to tell them whether i( any 
thing can exceed such impertinence," and conclude 
with remarking, that " Mr. Robert Dermont is far 
from a gentleman; he is an underbred lout; he 
would not," say they, " otherwise have made so 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 21 

great a mistake as to suppose that he was saying a 
good thing when he informs us that Mrs. Fidget 
died of a cancer on her tongue, because she was a 
great talker. It is an affront to the understanding 
to palm such puerile and contemptible stuff on the 
public." I notice these things because I can most 
solemnly protest, that if what is said of my book 
in this particular Review be correct, I would at the 
risk of any sacrifice, withdraw it totally from circu- 
lation. One passage certainly, which induces them 
to call me, an " underbred nasty fellow," I will 
willingly alter ; their comments have certainly made 
it so, and I am very sorry I have given the least 
occasion for it. Their general opinion of my book 
is, " that all the merit, the spirit, and the wit of 
it are hung on the poor tattered rag of a phrase, 
Thinks- I-to-my self, if merit, and spirit, and wit they 
may be called." As an author, I am pronounced 
to be not only an " underbred lout, 9 ' and an "under- 
bred nasty fellow" but " hoggish and flippant ;" an 
" hireling ;" " as complete an old woman as one may 
meet on a summer's day; 9 ' a " Grub-street quill-dri- 
ver ;" a " Flummerer of Bishops, nay of Kings and 
Regents." 

What offence can I have given to these severe 
nay savage critics? What can it all mean? I am 



22 thinks-i-to-Myself. 

afraid there is prejudice in the case. It is certainly 
remarkable that the Critical Reviewers are the only- 
public journalists who yet have so far presumed upon 
having made a discovery of the real author as to 
venture to give him any name or title. But these 
Critics, in almost every line, speak of him as " our 
eZmco-friend ;" our * serio-ludicro-comico-c/mco- 
friend." It will be seen above, that the work has 
been assigned to no less than four clergymen ; and 
a friend has reminded me, that one of those has 
lately endeavoured to undeceive the public, in re- 
gard to the Improved Version of the New Testament 
published by the Unitarians, and he is confident in 
his own mind, that these Reviewers consider the 
work to be undoubtedly the performance of that 
particular divine. I leave that gentleman (if it be 
so) to the defence, protection, and vindication of 
those that know him better than I pretend to do. 
But there are some things which must touch 
the author nearly, as they regard his character 
in general, as much as the character of his book *, 
which indeed may no longer pass for a trifle (as I 
used to regard it) if it be the vehicle of doctrines 
and sentiments so base and abominable as these 
Reviewers would represent. That my supposed 
i/enVo-distinction must in itself be some offence, I 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF, 23 

am rather inclined to think, from what is said in the 
very same number of that Review, of the cruel, vin- 
dictive and persecuting spirit of Bishop Porteus, in 
the discharge of a high (but no doubt painful) official 
duty; as well as of the vehement orthodoxy of Pro- 
fessor Marsh. This clerico seems to be the object 
of their attack in general ; but they object also to 
my loyalty and my politics; of the latter they say * 
" Then follows an account of our friend Clerico's 
politics, which is in the same style as the philippics, 
which we sometimes read in the papers, from the pen 
of some hireling who wishes to make the people be- 
lieve that oppression, taxes, and the high price of pro- 
visions are no bad things ; and that so far from being 
dissatisfied with half-starved stomachs, they ought 
to down on their knees to the ministers, and return 
thanks for what they can get." Good Heavens! 
have I really been propagating such tenets as these? 
If I have, I hope some member of the legislature 
will move that my book be burnt by the common 
hang-man. I would buy back all the copies that 
have been sold to the public at an advanced price, 
sooner than pass, (however personally unknown) 
for a man of such base principles. Have I not in 
express terms declared that I am a friend to every 
practicable reform? that I wish every grievance to 



24 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

be constitutionally made known, and as constitu- 
tionally redressed ? that I would for ever employ 
any influence I might have, to rectify and amelio- 
rate whatever should appear capable of rectification 
and amelioration ; (adding, I allow, the following 
cautionary clause,) " without exciting or fomenting 
a greater spirit of discontent and uneasiness, than 
the real state of the case, after all fair allowances, 
shall seem to warrant?" — In adding which remark, 
I do protest, that I was actuated by no other feel- 
ing than what arose from the persuasion, that the 
excitement of any discontent and uneasiness beyond 
what the real state of the case warrants, is above all 
things cruel to the sufferers themselves ; often lead- 
ing them into measures more likely to aggravate 
than relieve their distresses, and hurrying them onto 
demands and expectations, which perhaps no power 
upon earth could satisfy. If no such mischiefs are 
to be apprehended from excessive discontent and 
uneasiness, (for I speak of no other,) I will consent 
to expunge the clause in question, but while my 
own experience and observation tell me the con- 
trary, why am I to suppress my sentiments upon the 
subject? The real state of the case, I would aver 
wish to be known and understood in all its circum- 
stances, nor do I desire that any other allowance 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 25 

should be granted upon any occasion of emergency, 
but such as are strictly fair, just, and reasonable ; 
allowances zsfair and just, I mean, as the insuper- 
able impediments of wind and water in the case of an 
unsuccessful admiral ; circumstances which however 
uncontrollable, have to my certain knowledge in 
popular tumults and moments of political frenzy, 
scarcely been allowed to have their proper weight. 

These Reviewers say besides, that I am ^fium- 
merer of bishops ; and in another part of their work 
they talk of my buttering bishops. As a clodpole 
and a lout, I scarcely venture to say I understand 
such refined and elegant expressions. The only 
bishop I h&veflummered, or praised, or buttered, is 
the Honourable Dr. Shute Barrington, the bishop of 
Durham, in whose company I do declare I was 
never but once in my whole life, and that for not 
more than the space of ten minutes ? What I have 
said of him in my book, I said on this account ; 
that he has in his public capacity patronized almost 
everything that was worth patronage; and provided 
for many most able, learned, and worthy persons; 
as I verily believe, on this sole account, that they 
appeared to him really able, learned, and worthy. 
But let us see how I Imveflummered and buttered 
this particular bishop. I have certainly said, that 



26 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

at this moment " that see is in the hands of a most 
munificent prelate, and I wish it may never be in 
worse hands." Pray mark the terms : my book was 
printed April, 1811. Who could ever suspect the 
Edinburgh Reviewers of being flummerers and but- 
terers of bishops ? and yet in their number for No- 
vember, 1811, (seven months subsequent to my 
own publication,) I find them thus speaking of the 
present Bishop of Durham : " They found, that a 
prelate of immense revenues, and of munificence 
(pray mind the word) becoming the wealth whereof 
he is trustee for the Church" &c. This is suffi- 
cient for my vindication. Clerico or laico, I do de- 
clare that the Bishop of Durham has served many 
most learned and excellent divines, merely as I ap- 
prehend, because they were learned and excellent ; 
and such bishops I will praise at the risk of any 
charges of flummery or buttery : sad vulgar terms, 
which I leave to the Critical Reviewers to defend 
and justify as they can. 

That I have complimented, or rather implored a 
blessing, on the King and the Regent, I do not deny ; 
that I have offered " adoration" to either I do deny. 
The King I love and venerate to a degree that I 
cannot describe, and I care not who knows it. The 
Regent I love and respect for his most amiable and 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 27 

high-minded attention to, and reverence of his Fa- 
ther's feelings. I say no more of him in my book. 
I owe allegiance to both, according to the principles 
of the Constitution ; but I hope I am not to blame, 
in availing myself of every fair plea to attach my- 
self to those exalted individuals. The Critical Re- 
viewers talk of " a lick and a promise." I know not 
what they mean ; I do declare, I am unacquainted 
with the meaning of such terms. They may be 
vulgar, or they may be refined ; I only say, they 
are totally new to me. They expect me to " dress 
up" another " dish of flummery for his Royal High- 
ness" Not I. I will be as honest with his Royal 
Highness as with the rest of the world ; and I only 
wish that no man may ever be a worse friend to 
him than myself. If so, he will be safe, whether 
Regent or King. 

Some persons have thought (no wonder I should 
have set every body thinking) that from what I say 
of fashionable lectures, Sec. I am an enemy to the 
general diffusion of knowledge and cultivation of 
female minds particularly. Far from it I do assure 
you, gentle reader. I wish learning and knowledge 
to flow in the widest and fullest streams, and to fer- 
tilize the land w T e live in, from the mountain top to 
the lowliest valley ; but I have an anxiety upon 



28 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

two points which I wish not to conceal. I should 
desire to see the sciences studied and cultivated, 
not merely for show and fashion, and so inadequate- 
ly and superficially, as to answer no higher ends 
than those of filling an empty head with conceit ; or 
a weak mind with pride. Public lectures may be ad- 
mirable assistants to private studies, but home is the 
place where I wish the understanding to receive its 
chief improvement. I object not to any young persons 
attending fashionable lectures on the sciences, but I 
object to their attending them rather because they 
are fashionable, than because they are useful and in- 
structive. I wish them in all instances to go there, 
as they ought to go to Church ; to hear what is to 
be heard, rather than to see what is to be seen, or in 
fact, to be seen by those who go merely to see icho is 
to be seen there. I care not how many drink of the 
" Pierian spring/' but I wish them to do as the 
Poet directs, " drink deep or taste not," for indeed 
it is too often found, that " a little knowledge is a 
dangerous thing." 

The second point upon which I feel an anxiety is, 
that useful and ornamental accomplishments should 
be justly appreciated. That the ornamental should 
never be accounted useful, where they are altoge- 
ther unnecessary, nor the useful neglected as not 






THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 29 

ornamental, where what is most suitable must at all 
events be most truly ornamental. Use ought un- 
doubtedly to be the study of the many in all large 
societies, ornament the study of the few ; yet it 
seems to me that we are now in some danger of 
seeing these things reversed ; since ornamental ac- 
complishments appear to have become the sine-qua- 
non of the many, and utility the study of the few. 
I have a respect for all stations and occupations of 
life, when kept properly distinct, and I am quite 
prepared to admit that some of the lowest are the 
most useful, and therefore the most honourable and 
unexceptionable. I mean therefore no offence, much 
less any ill, when I observe that perhaps to certain 
classes of females, music, dancing, drawing, French 
and Italian, nay even grammar, are not so necessary 
either for use or ornament, as the customs of the day 
would lead one to suppose ; nor yet to certain classes 
of the other sex, Greek and Latin, Prosody, Rhe- 
toric, and Oratory in all its branches. I think I 
should feel as much, if not more respect, for in- 
stance, for any Farmer's daughter, who had no 
piano-forte in the corner of her room, as for one 
who had ; and could as freely buy beer of a brewer, 
or sheep of a grazier, who had never learnt " hie, 
h&c, hoc,' 9 or " propria quiz maribus" as from the 



30 THINKS-I-TQ-MYSELF. 

most accomplished classical scholar. In short, I 
think Boarding Schools for young Ladies, and Gram- 
mar Schools for young Gentlemen, are somewhat 
too much in vogue, and that in the general thirst 
after admission into those seminaries, utility stands 
a sad chance of being sacrificed to ornament ; if 
ornament it may after all be called, when not suited 
or adapted either to the present or future circum- 
stances of the party. 

There is one branch of knowledge undoubtedly, 
so decisively both useful and ornamental to all 
classes of persons, that I would not attempt to as- 
sign any limits to the diffusion of it. Most heartily 
do 1 wish and pray that the time may soon come 
when, as our gracious Sovereign is said to have ex- 
pressed himself, " Every subject of these realms 
may be able to read the Bible." — Most happy should 
I be also, if I could at all flatter myself with the 
hope, that the diffusion of this knowledge, would as 
speedily conduce to the accomplishment of the 
Apostle's precept, and cause us all to become, in 
the fullest sense of the terms, " of one mind, to 
have compassion one of another, to love as brethren, 
to be pitiful and courteous ;" but alas ! the aspect 
of things is different. The Bible remains one and 
the same, yet most true is it, and most sad to re- 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 31 

fleet upon, that the more it is studied, the more the 
distinctions and denominations among Religionists 
seem to increase ; while bad temper and bad language 
are still too much employed to foment these differ- 
ences, and widen the breaches they occasion. 

To what extremities this diversity of opinions 
will ultimately proceed, I pretend not to conjecture. 
My own choice is made, and I must have leave to 
declare that it has not been made carelessly or at 
random. I have studied the writings of those ivho 
differ from the National Church as sedulously and 
attentively, as I could ; but have as yet found no 
cause to withdraw from her communion. As sects, 
and distinctions, and differences increase, it is as 
easy to compare them one with another, as with the 
National Church ; and upon such a comparison, I 
am induced to continue attached to the latter upon 
this further consideration, which I affirm to be the 
exact result of such researches; namely, that in 
adopting the tenets of the Church, I find that I am 
in agreement in some one point or other, with almost 
every class of Dissenters, and that those who do not 
hold communion with as, differ severally far mora 
from each other, than any of them differ from the 
Church. My conclusion is, that the Church doc- 
trines are those which are most generally and uni- 



32 THINKS-I-TOMYSELF. 

versally received, if not in the gross, yet severally 
and distinctly ; and therefore so far from the terms 
of her communion, being narrow and confined, they 
are in fact, most comprehensive, or at the least upon 
comparison,/ar more comprehensive than any others. 

I cannot conclude this Address without repeating 
my assurances to the Public, that " Thinks-I-to- 
myself," was sent to the Press with the most inno- 
cent intentions, as a trifle which might perhaps 
amuse some, perhaps reclaim a few, but at all events 
offend none. Its rapid sale can have surprised no- 
body more than its author, who would scarcely feel 
any longer answerable for a work so patronized, but 
that he sees himself in danger of having blemishes 
detected, which he had rather avow than pretend to 
conceal, and that he is sensible that he is liable to 
be misundersood upon some points of importance, 
without such an explanation as he has here at- 
tempted to give, of his principles and private senti- 
ments. His name is only withheld, because he 
thinks it unnecessary to disclose it; he has thought 
it due to some gentlemen of singular respectability 
who have been accused of writing his book to ex- 
onerate them from an imputation which might per- 
haps be unpleasant to them ; he does not pretend 
to deny that the secret has transpired to a certain 



THTNKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 33 

degree; a circumstance he would not affect to la- 
ment, but that it seems to have excited a spirit 
against the book, which the good-nature of a most 
indulgent public, convinces him it does not strictly 
deserve. The book may be exceedingly trifling, ex- 
ceedingly unworthy of the notice of persons of very 
refined taste and judgment, but he cannot pay the 
world so bad a compliment as to think it would 
all for seven Editions in so short a time, if it were 
eally so puerile and contemptible, vulgar, base and 
ow, as the Critical Reviewers would represent it 
to be ; whose own language, after all, if it be ele- 
gant and refined, is so different from any that the 
Author of this work would be inclined to adopt, that 
until the Public in general decide against him, he can- 
not consent to change his style upon such authority. 
Let it be but once determined that their expressions 
are pure, courtly, and correct, and the Author will 
acknowledge at once that his own are base, and low, 
and not to be endured. 

Jan. 1812. 



A 

LETTER 

CONCERNING THE PORTRAIT, 



RIGHT HONOURABLE 

(and Right Beautiful, as I doubt not) 
THE LADY L. M . 

I have duly received, through my Bookseller, 
Mr. Sherwood, your Ladyship's Letter, dated, 
&c. &c. ; in which you require to he informed, 
whether the Print that appeared first as a frontis- 
piece to the seventh Edition, is to be considered as a 
real portrait of the Author, or merely fancy-work. 

I have the honour to state to your Ladyship in 
reply, that it is indeed all fancy-work, mere fancy, 
no more like me than an Apple's like an Oyster, or 
an Oyster like your Ladyship. It could not well 
be otherwise, for I declare I never saw either the 
designer or engraver, either Mr. Clennell or Mr. 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 35 

Hopwood, in all my life, nor they me ; it was judged 
fit, to say the truth, by wiser persons than myself, 
that something of a frontispiece or portrait should 
appear, and I had a very whimsical conceit in my 
own head upon this point, but as it happened, I 
could not so easily get it out of my own head ; nor, 
which is more to the purpose, at such a distance as 
I live from Mr. Clennell, could I very easily get it 
into his head, instead of my own. Could I but have 
done this, the Print would have been better, for that 
gentleman certainly draws very prettily, only he has 
not quite caught my idea ; and as to myself, I draw 
worse than any poker, and never therefore am able 
to describe my own fancies. 

I acquiesced in the measure of adding some sort 
of portrait, because it seems to be the fashion with 
such eminent persons as me, whose book has passed 
through so many editions. I remember from a 
child how I used to be delighted with the portraits 
in my spelling books, of a Mr. Ainsworth, and I 
think a Mr. Dilwortk also, each with a pen in his 
hand, and a schoolmaster's cap on his head ; and I 
believe some of the latter editions of Mrs. Glasse's 
Cookery are ornamented with a portrait of that tasty 
writer and elegant authoress ; so that I thought it 
high time, that some frontispiece of that kind should 
d 2 



36 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

be added to my own book; especially as others 
advised it too : but your Ladyship cannot imagine 
how very unlike me it is, for I am a very little man ; 
in my shoes, not above five feet three inches and a 
quarter at the utmost. I never wear a white waist- 
coat, and scarcely ever sit with my hand in my 
bosom, or my legs so far asunder. 

As your Ladyship seems desirous of having some 
idea of my person, I will endeavour to tell you what 
little I know about it. My stature, as I said, is 
diminutive. I wear my own hair, which is darkish, 
and curls naturally all manner of ways, and I never 
do intend to wear a wig, — - 

Unless indeed 

But that your Ladyship may depend upon it, will 
never happen. My countenance is a veiy odd one. 
1 had those indentures across my forehead, which 
people call wrinkles, as far as I know from my in- 
fancy. To the amount of about four or five horizon- 
tal ones divided in the middle, as it were, thus, 




and one very deep perpendicular one between my 
eyes, at the top of my nose. I very well remember 
being told by the famous Garrick, when I was a 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 37 

boy, that I had got his mark, to which he attribu- 
ted much of his command of countenance ; how- 
ever I am not a Garrick, madam, for all this - 7 
though I have trodden a stage in my time, not a 
public one indeed, but a very grand one, if the 
truth were known. 

A noble and celebrated Marquis, now no more, 
used to insist upon it, that I bore a strong resem- 
blance to Julius Ccesar ; but to the best of my be- 
lief, I am no more of & Julius Ccesar, than of a Gar- 
rick. My nose is not very long, nor very short ; 

something I think of this shape _} My eyes are, 

as to colour, I believe, greenish, or greyish; perhaps 
rather more of the latter. As to expression, your 
Ladyship, I am sure, w r ill not expect me to be par- 
ticular upon this head. I am under jawed; but 
my chin, and ears, and lips, and cheeks, much like 
other peoples. I am not at all bulky, but my breadth, 
at present, admirably proportioned to my height. 

My thumb, Madam, measures exactly two inches 
and six-tenths of an inch round ; which I take the 
liberty of mentioning to your Ladyship, because 
that doubled for my ivrist, and again doubled for my 
neck, and again for my waist, will give you a very 
fair idea of my size. 



38 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

Your Ladyship further expresses, a tender anxiety 
to know whether I am married or single ; by which 
I think myself extremely honoured and flattered in- 
deed ! but, Madam, the case is, that — my wife and 
children desire to offer their best respects to your 
Ladyship, and 

I have the Honour to be, 
Your much obliged 

and very humble Servant, 

The Author. 



PREFACE 

TO THE 

EIGHTH EDITION. 



I am sorry to trouble the Public more than neces- 
sary, but I cannot send an Eighth Edition of Thinks- 
I-to-Myself to the Press, without noticing certain 
curious circumstances which have occurred since the 
publication of the Seventh. 

In the Preface to that Edition, I stated, that I 
did not pretend to know myself, (for what preten- 
sion more extravagant than this ?) and that I could 
less than ever make out what I was, in consequence 
of the several opinions formed of me in the world, 
from the perusal of my book. All this, I undoubt- 
edly thought at the time, was mere matter of joke. 
I did not seriously apprehend, that any body would 
suppose that I really did not know who I myself was, 
or what I was, or what I did or did not do ; but 
now, to my utter astonishment, I am, as nearly as 
can be, compelled to believe that all this is plain 
matter of fact. For, either there is another I, or I 
am not myself, or I am capable of having been the 
doer of deeds that I am confident that I never did do* 



40 TH1NKS-1-TO-MYSELF. 

I do vow and protest most solemnly, that to the 
best of my own personal knowledge and belief, this 
very work in two Volumes, 12mo. published origi- 
nally in April, 1811, by Messrs. Sherwood, Neely, 
and Jones, is the only work of the kind, I did ever 
print or publish in the whole course of my Life. 
Nevertheless not many months ago the following 
Advertisement appeared in the public papers. 

I SAYS, SAYS I. 

In the press, and in a few days will be published, 
in 2 Vols, 12mo. price 10s. 6d. boards, 

I says, says I. Being a ludicrous account of 
the Russell and Diddle Families ; and containing 
descriptive sketches of Characters which every one 
knows, and delineations of Scenes which every body 
has witnessed. 

By THINKS I TO MYSELF. 

Printed for J* Johnston, Cheapside, and sold by 
all Booksellers. 

I thought it extremely odd. My friends thought 
it extremely impudent ; and I was rather urged to 
contradict it. But it struck me, that in fact, / am 
not " Thinks-I-to-my$elf" but the AUTHOR of 
" Think$~I-to-my$elf" nor is " Thinks~I-to-myself" 
any body, either of the first, second, or third Per- 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 41 

son ; and that therefore nobody was really offended. 
Soon after, however, a second advertisement ap- 
peared, in the Name of the said " Thinks- I-to-mif- 
self" begging that the Public would be graciously 
pleased to send speedily for HIS NEW WORK, 
and to <( give their orders immediately for fear of 
disappointments." 

This seemed to come a little nearer home. My 
Printer and Publisher, and my friends in general, 
advised me now, to contradict both advertisements 
without any farther delay, and to undeceive the 
public. I therefore gave directions for a counter- 
statement to be inserted in the papers as soon as 
possible, which appeared accordingly. This, I flat- 
tered myself had done the business, and that I had 
sufficiently put the world upon its guard against all 
mistakes and deceptions 5 but, quite the contrary ! 
for in a very few days after, appeared the following 
curious contradiction of my own contradiction ! ! — - 

" I SAYS, SAYS I. 

THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF, Author of I says, 
says I, begs leave to inform his friends, and the 
public in general, that HIS NEW WOKK, as 
above, is now ready for delivery in 2 Vols. 12mo. 
price 10s. 6d. Printed for J. Johnston, &c.&c. And 
the Author offers a Reward of FIFTY POUNDS 



42 TH1NKS-I-T0-MYSELF. 

to any person who can prove I says, says I, not to 
be from the pen of THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF, as 
the unprecedented sale of which has induced some 
evil-disposed Persons to assert the contrary, with 
a view to injure the reputation which the Author 
has already acquired, and for which he feels grate- 
ful." 

What could I be expected to do now ? Here was 
not only a positive contradiction of my own positive 
denial of the work, but my very attempts to save 
my own reputation, were openly denounced as the 
insidious manoeuvres of certain evil-disposed per- 
sons to injure and abuse it ! ! 

Any body will suppose, that I did, for a moment 
at least, indulge a hope, that by going before my 
Lord Mayor, or some other Magistrate, I might get 
the Fifty Pounds reward ; for I certainly felt that 
I could as easily prove, that I was not the Author 
of " I says, says I," as I could prove that I was 
not King of England. But alas ! " Thinks-I-to-my- 
self" is after all, still a non-entity, and of course, 
" his Pen" a non-entity ; and my Pen is only my 
own Pen, and nobody else's, certainly. And then, 
as to the Reward ; who offers to pay it ? why no- 
body, but the actual Author of " I says, says I," 
and who that is. or where he lives, or where he is 



THINKS-l-TO-MYSEtF. 43 

to be found, I am sure I know no more than the 
Man in the Moon ! 

What reception the Russell and Diddle families 
will meet with from the world, I know not, but 
they have certainly combined to play the world and 
myself a trick of some magnitude. And I must 
beg the Author of / says, says I, to be so good as 
to consider for me, what steps I must take, if it 
should ever come into my head to write another 
Novel, to convince the Public that I really am the 
Author of my own works ; for henceforth, through 
his extraordinary care of my reputation, I must ex- 
pect to be believed about as well as the idle Shep- 
herd's Boy, who cried " Wolf," " Wolf," upon a 
pretence, till he could not obtain credit when it was 
matter of fact. 

I shall conclude with offering ONE HUNDRED 
POUNDS Reward to any Person who can prove, 
that the Author of " Thinks-I-to-myself" is the 
Author of " I says, says I f which, if I can trust 
my own pen, ink and paper, and all the thoughts 
that I have or have not expressed by them, is 

IMPOSSIBLE, 

May 9th, 1812, 



44 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

TWO other works are either published, or about 
to be published, one of which professes to be " by 
One who Thinks-f or- Himself," and the other to be, 
H an Answer to Thinks- I-to-my self," entitled, " I'll 
consider of it." I am much flattered by the Compli- 
ments paid to my book, and am inclined to hope I 
shall rather have done good than harm, if I shall 
have induced more persons than usual, to " think- 
for-ihemselves," provided in doing so, they will but 
be careful in all instances to "consider of it" sagely 
and maturely. 



I am also just informed, that at one of our pub- 
lic Theatres a Song is introduced on the Stage, 
bearing allusion to my book. I hope it is chaste, 
moral, and correct ; for since many people through 
want of thought, are, as every body knows, in the 
habit of singing-to-themselves, as I wish not to be 
responsible for the excitement of any evil thoughts, 
so certainly not even for any singings in the head f 
which may lead to harm. 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF, &c 



- 



I was born of very honest, worthy, and respect- 
able parents : — at least I think so. They were cer- 
tainly fully as much so as their neighbours : their 
circumstances were affluent ; their rank in life con- 
spicuous; their punctuality as to the discharge of 
all just debts, and regular payment of their trades- 
people, unexceptionable. They generally appeared 
to be regarded by all around them in a very respect- 
able light, being in the habit of receiving and re- 
turning, according to the customs of the world, all 
the usual compliments and civilities of visits, enter- 
tainments, &c. &c. Divers personages of all ranks 
and denominations used occasionally to resort to 
the house : some in carriages, some on horseback, 
some on foot ; some, in a formal, stiff, ceremonious 
manner; some, upon a footing of intimacy and 
equality ; some, upon special invitation ; some, quite 
unexpected. 



46 THINKS-1-TO-MYSELF. 

Not having very good health in my early days, I 
lived much at home, and generally kept my good 
mother company ; so that I was present at most of 
the meetings and greetings of which I have spoken ; 
privy to all the preliminary arrangements of chosen 
and select parties ; and a witness commonly to the 
reception given to the several invitations that came 
Trorn all quarters of the neighbourhood : — as Lord 
and Lady this ; — Sir Timothy and Lady that ; — Mr. 
and Mrs. T'other thing, &c. &c. &c. — all in their 
turns, and out of their turns, welcome or nmvelcome, 
friends or foes, were, in the course of the year, ad- 
mitted or invited to the Hall. 

For we lived, you must know, in a Hall! that 
is, our house was called so : — not when I was born, 
nor till long afterwards; nor ever very seriously; 
rather indeed as a nick-name than any thing else. 
The case was this ; — my sister happened to have a 
correspondent at a school near London, who finding 
it essentially necessary to the support of her dignity 
among her school-fellows, always directed her letters 
so : — for the parents of one, she found, lived at 
something House; and of another at what's-it's 
name Place; and of another at thingumme Lodge; 
of another at the Grange ; of another at the Cas- 
tle ; of another at the Park : some lived on 



TpiNKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 47 

Mount Pleasants ; some on Rose Hills; some 
on Primrose Banks; some at Belle-vues ; some 
in Paragons ; some in Circus's : some in Cres- 
cents ; in short, all boasted of a title and distinc- 
tion, which our poor old mansion seemed to want : 
whether it were the dwelling of a duke, or a cheese- 
monger, it was all one : — so that in her own defence, 
she thought it fit to aggrandize her correspondent 
in the eyes of her school-fellows, by conferring a 
title of some sort or other on our old mansion ; and 
as Hall appeared to be as much unoccupied as 
any, she determined to direct to us, not at simple 
" Grumblethorpe," as formerly, but at Grumble- 
thorpe Hall, which certainly sounded much 
grander. 

And as for the House's sake, I must aver, that it 
deserved a title far more than half the Lodges, and 
Places, and Parks, and Mounts, and Hills, and 
Banks in the kingdom : for it was a regular, good 
old-fashioned mansion ; situated in a very reverend 
and venerable park; with a stately avenue of lofty 
elms, reaching near a quarter of a mile ; a hand- 
some terrace in front, and a noble prospect from the 
drawing-room window ; so that I have often thought 
it no less than a degradation of our venerable resi- 
dence to be tricked out in this manner ; — but our 



48 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

friend could not, it seems, well help it : to live at 
only " Grumblethorpe," sounded so base in the re- 
fined ears of her associates, that she was in no small 
danger of being contemned and despised for having 
such a correspondent ; especially by Miss Blaze, 
the daughter of a retired tallow-chandler, whose 
father lived at Candlewick Castle ; and who was 
continually throwing out hints, that not to live, at a 
Castle, or a Park, or a Place, or a House, or a Lodge, 
manifestly and unequivocally bespoke so lowly an 
origin, and so Plebeian a parentage, that, for her 
part, she w r ondered, how any person, so meanly 
connected, could possibly have found her way to so 
genteel, and select a seminary : — in short, our friend 
found, that the only way to allay the degrading 
suspicions which had been excited, was, to new 
name our old mansion, and Grumblethorpe Hall be- 
came its established designation. 

Well, — to this Mansion, this Hall, as I said 
before, divers persons and personages resorted. The 
neighbourhood was tolerably large, and the neigh- 
bours themselves, what is commonly called socia- 
ble ; — so that what with stated, and settled, and 
pop visits, we were seldom alone. 

I know not under what particular planet I was 
born ; I never asked any cunning man to cast my 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF, 49 

nativity, and not being born under Mercury, I was 
never cunning enough to find it out of myself;— 
but if there be any one of them, that has any parti- 
cular influences in the way of consideration, reflec- 
tion, or soliloquy, no doubt I was born under that ; 
for being more given to taciturnity than loquacity 
in my boyhood and early youth, and being sickly 
besides, the part I generally bore, in most of the 
companies I speak of, was, to sit quite quiet, and 
make observations and remarks to myself, upon the 
conversation and conduct of others ; and by de- 
grees I got into a habit, not only of thinking, but 
of talking to myself : and if any thing was done or 
uttered at any time, that suggested certain im-utter- 
able remarks, I fell into that particular state of so- 
liloquy, and mental reflection, which I cannot pos- 
sibly define or describe otherwise, than by the vul- 
gar and trite, but significant phrase, " thinks-i- 

TO-MYSELF ." 

It is past all conception, how continually I was 
driven to have recourse to these mental remarks ; — 
scarcely a word was uttered that did not suggest 
something odd and whimsical to my watchful mind ; 
— often did it make me quite tremble for fear I 
should, by any accident or inadyertency, utter aloud, 
what was passing only in my thoughts ; I suppose, 

E 



50 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

had it happened, it would at any time, and on a 
sudden, have made such a groupe, as nothing but 
the pencil of an Hogarth could have adequately 
described; — for in our neighbourhood, as in most 
others (though a very sociable one), the truth is, — 
there were such likings and dislikings, such jealou- 
sies and suspicions, such envyings and emulations, 
such a contrariety of feelings and sentiments, as 
would have set every thing in an uproar in a mo- 
ment, had not the utmost and most unwearied at- 
tention been paid, by all parties, to the preventing 
any discovery of the truth. 

My poor mother had not a spark of ill-nature in 
her disposition, no pride, no uncharitableness ; — but 
was certainly as well-bred, and as ready to make 
allowances for others as most people ; — but she 
could distinguish, as well as any, between agreeables 
and disagreeables, and be as much affected by them ; 
and thought, I believe, that take it altogether, there 
was rather a predominance of the latter, in the af- 
fairs and occupations, and common pursuits of the 
world : she did not open her mind to me so fully 
upon the subject, as to enable me to state what was 
the exact nature of her feelings, but I could collect 
a good deal from her conduct and manner occasion- 
ally. 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 51 

The first tendency to indulge myself in the lucu- 
brations and reflections I describe, arose from the 
strange circumstances that seemed to me, to attend 
her intercourse with her neighbours ; — that is, the 
giving and receiving of visits ! 

One day, when I was sitting quite snug with her, 
and she was occupied in writing to my sister, who 
was absent from home, I spied at the end of the 
avenue, a groupe of pedestrians slowly making up 
to Grumblethorpe Hall, apparently dressed in thei 
best bibs and tuckers for a morning visit : Thinks- 
I-to-myself here's some agreeable company coming 
to my dear mama ! how kind it is of her neighbours 
to call in upon her thus, and not leave her to mope 
away her time by herself, as though she were buried 
alive ! 

[Sfot being willing however to run any risk of dis- 
appointing her, I waited patiently to see whether 
they were really coming to the Hall, for part of the 
avenue was the highway to the village : I kept 
watching them therefore with no small anxiety, for 
fear they should turn away abruptly, and deceive 
my expectations ; but when I saw them happily 
advanced beyond the turning to the village, and was 
therefore certain that they were really coming to 
see my dear mother, I hastily turned round to her, 

e2 



52 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

exclaiming, " Here's ever so many people coming, 
mama;" thinking to delight her very heart; — 
u People coming/' says she ; " I hope not J w " Yes, 
indeed, there are," says I ; — u one, two, three, four 
ladies, a little boy, and two pug dogs, I do declare !" 
" Bless my soul!": — says my mother, — " how pro- 
voking ! it is certainly Mrs. Fidget and her daugh- 
ters, and that troublesome child, and now I can't 
finish my letter to your sister before the post goes i 
— I wish to goodness they would learn to stay at 
home, and let one have one's time to one's self!" 
Thinks- I-to-my self > my poor mother seems not 
much to like their coming ; I am afraid the Mrs. 
and Miss Fidgets will meet with rather an unkind- 
ly reception ! however, I plainly saw that there was 
no stopping them : — they got nearer and nearer; — 
the walking was not over clean, and my mother was 
the neatest woman in the world. — Thinks- I-to-my- 
self, the Pug dogs will dirty the room. At last they 
arrived ; — the servant ushered them in ; — sure 
enough it was Mrs. and Miss Fidgets, and the 
troublesome child, and all ! Mrs. Fidget ran up to 
my mother as though she would have kissed her, 
sq glad did she seem to see her. My mother, (bless 
her honest soul!) rose from her seat, and greeted 
them most civilly. " This is very kind indeed, Mrs. 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 53 

Fidget," says she, u and I esteem it a great favour ! 
— I had no idea you could have walked so far ; I 
am delighted to see you !" — 

[Thinks-I-to-myself, — she wishes you all at Old 
Nick!!!— 

/ Mrs. Fidget assured her she might take it as a 
particular favor, for she had not done such a thing, 
she believed, for the last six months ; and she should 
never have attempted it now to visit any body else ! 

i Thinks-I-to-myself, — then Mrs. Fidget you have 
lost your labour I — M And now," says she, " how 
I am to get home again, I am sure I cannot tell, for 
I really am thoroughly knocked up :" — Thinks-I-to- 
myself, my dear mother won't like to hear that!— 
but I was mistaken ; for, turning to Mrs. Fidget, 
she said, with the greatest marks of complacency, 
""that's good hearing for us; then we shall have the 
pleasure of your company to dinner ; Mr. Dermont 
will be delighted, when he comes home, to find you 
all here :" — " O you are very good," says Mrs. Fid- 
get, " but I must return, whether I can walk or not, 
only I fear I must trouble you with a longer visit 
than may be agreeable ;" M the longer the better" 
says my dear mother. Thinks-I-to-myself, — that's 

a ! ! • 

i While my mother and Mrs. Fidget were engaged 



54 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

in this friendly and complimentary conversation, the 
Miss Fidgets were lifting up the little boy to a cage 
in which my mother's favourite canary bird hung, 
and the boy was sedulously poking his fingers 
through the wires of the cage, to the great alarm 
and annoyance of the poor little animal. Thinks- 1- 
to-myself my mother will wish you behind the fire 
presently, young gentleman ! — but no such thing ! 

for just at that moment, she turned round, 

and seeing how he was occupied, asked if the cage 
should be taken down to amuse him : " he is a 
sweet boy, Mrs. Fidget/' says she ; " how old is 
he ?" " just turned of four," says Mrs. Fidget ; — 
" only four" says my mother, u he is a remarkably 
fine strong boy for that age !" " he is indeed a fine 
child," says Mrs. Fidget; " but don't my dear do 
that," says she, u you frighten tha poor bird." — As 
the Miss Fidgets were about to put him down, my 
mother ventured to assure them, that he would do 
no harm ; n pretty little fellow" says she, H pray 
let him amuse himself." 

All this while, the two pug dogs were reconnoitring 
the drawing room and furniture, jumping upon the 
sofa continually with their dirty feet, and repeatedly 
trying to discern (by the application of their pug 
noses to our feet and knees) who my mother and 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 55 

myself could be, barking besides in concert at every 
movement and every strange noise they heard in 
the passage and Hall : — Mrs. Fidget sometimes pre- 
tending to chide them, and my mother as carefully 
pretending to excuse them with her whole heart :— 
often did I catch her casting, as I thought, a wish- 
ful eye on the letter to my sister, which lay unfinish- 
ed on the table ; nay once even when her attention 
had been particularly solicited to some extraordinary 
attitudes into which the little dogs had been severally 
bidden to put themselves/br her express amusement. 

But these canine exhibitions were nothing to the 
one with which we were afterwards threatened ; for 
my mother's high commendations of the little gen- 
tleman of four years old, induced his sisters to pro- 
pose to their mother that he should " let Mrs. Der- 
mont hear how w r ell he could spout;" that is, that 
he should entertain us with a specimen of his pre- 
mature memory and oratorical talents, by speaking 
a speech. 

\ Strong solicitations were accordingly made to 
little Master, to begin the required display of his 
rhetorical abilities, but whether it were on account 
of his shyness, or indolence, or sulkiness, or caprice, 
or, in short, merely that little Master was nol^in a 
spouting cue, he betrayed such an obstinate repug- 



56 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

nance to the task imposed upon him, that it re- 
quired all the entreaties of the rest of the party to 
induce him to make the smallest advances towards 
the exhibition proposed. Each of his sisters went 
down on her knees to coax him, while Mrs. Fidget 
huffed and coaxed, and coaxed and huffed by turns, 
till she was almost tired of it. Now promising such 
a load of sweetmeats as soon as she got home if he 
would but begin ; and in the same breath threaten- 
ing the severest application of the rod if he did not 
instantly comply. At one time kissing him and 
hugging him with a " Now, do my dearest love, be 
a man, and speak your speech f 9 at another, almost 
shaking his head off his shoulders, with a " stupid 
boy ! how can you be so naughty before company ." 

(At last, however, upon my mother's tapping the 
pretty child under the chin, and taking him kindly 
by the hand, and expressing (Heaven bless her !) the 
most ardent wish and desire to be so indulged, he did 
condescend to advance into the middle of the room, 
and was upon the point of beginning, when Mrs. 
Fidget most considerately interposed, to procure 
him to put his right foot a little forwarder, with the 
toe more out, and to direct him about the proper 
motion, that is, the up-lifting and down-dropping of 
his right arm during the performance. One of hk 



fHINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 57 

sisters, in the mean time, seating herself near to 
him, for fear of any accidental slip or failure in the 
young gentleman's miraculous memory. 

(His first attempt was upon Pope's Universal 
Prayer, but unfortunately, of the fourth line, he 
managed constantly to make but one word, and 
that so odd a one, that the sound but ill atoned for 
the manifest ignorance of the sense. 

" Father of all, in every age, 
In every clime ador'd y 
By saint, by savage, and by sage,. 
Jovajovalord •" 

/Jovajovalord! This was the word, and the only 
word that could be got out of his mouth, and Thinks- 
I-to-myself, it would be well if no greater blunders 
had ever been committed with regard to that in- 
sidious line ; however, in consequence of this invin- 
cible misnomer, the Universal Prayer was laid by, 
and other pieces successively proposed, till it was 
at length unanimously determined, that what he 
shone most in, was King Lear's Address to the Tem- 
pest, and this was accordingly fixed upon as his 
chef-d'oeuvre in the art of oratory. 

[Some preliminaries, however, in this instance ap- 
peared to be necessary. It was not reasonable to 



58 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

suppose young Master could address a storm with- 
out some sort of symptoms at least of a real storm. 
It was agreed upon, therefore, that he should not 
commence his speech till he heard a rumbling noise 
proceed from the company present, and we were all 
desired to bear our part in this fictitious thunder ; 
how we all thundered, I cannot pretend to say, but 
so it was, that in due time, by the aid of such noises 
as we could severally and jointly contribute, the 
storm began most nobly, when the young orator 
stepping forward, his eyes and right hand raised, 
and his right foot protruded secundem artem, he 
thus began : 

" Blow winds and cwack your cheeks V — 

" Crack your cheeks," my love, says his sister ; 
" What can you mean by ci^ack your cheeks ? 
what's that, pray ?" 

" Aye, what is that/' says Mrs. Fidget ; — " but 
I believe, ma'am," adds she, turning to my mother, 
" I must make his excuses for him; you must 
know, he cannot be brought yet to pronounce an 
R, do all we can, so that he always leaves it quite 
out, or he pronounces it exactly like a W." 

Thinks- I-to-my 'self "many do the like. 

" We choose speeches for him, therefore," con- 



^THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 59 

tinues Mrs. Fidget 5 " in which there are many R's 
on purpose to conquer the difficulty, if we can ; be- 
gin again, my dear," says she, ff and pray remem- 
ber not to leave out your RR's ; w so he began 
afresh. 

" Blow winds, and ctuack your cheeks ! wage 

u Wage, my dear," says Mrs. Fidget, " do pray 
try to say rage." 

" Wage 
You Cataracts and hurwy canoes, spout 
Till you have cUuench'd our steeples, dwown'd the cocks !" 

" Bless me," exclaims Mrs. Fidget, " you might 
as well not speak at all as speak so ; I defy any 
body to understand what you mean by dwown'd 
the cocks !" The little gentleman, however, pro- 
ceeded spite of the RR's. 

" You sulphurous and thought executing fires, 
Vaunt — couriers of oak-cleaving thunder-bolts, 
Singe my ivhite head — and thou, all-shaking thunder, 
Stwike flat the thick rotundity o' th' world ; 
Cwack nature's mould, all germins spill at once 
That make ungrateful man. 
Wumble thy belly-full, spitfire, spout wain!" 

'! v O dear, dear, dear," says Mrs. Fidget, " that 
will never do ; wumble thy belly-full, spit fire, and 



60 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

spout wain 1 who ever heard of such things ? Better, 
my love, have done with that, and try the Bard*," 
but the Bard beginning 

" Train seize thee, umthiess king," 

put us too much in mind of " tumble your belly 
full," to be proceeded with, and therefore little mas- 
ter was at last bidden to descend from such flights, 
and try his Fable; but even his Fable, which 
chanced to be the first of Gay, happening, most un- 
fortunately, to begin with an R, .his setting off here 
was as bad as ever, viz. 

" TFemote from cities lived a swain — " 

however he got through about ten lines, making, 
as I observed, a dead pause at the end of every one, 
and not disposing very discreetly, either of his ac- 
cents or his stops ; his delivery being as nearly as 
possible, just as follows : his accents falling on the 
words printed in italics ; and his pauses as noted 
by the perpendicular and horizontal bars. 

" His head was | silvered \ o'er with age — 
And long ex- | perie?ice \ made him sage — 
His hours in | cheerful | labor flew — 
Nor Envy nor j Ambition knew — "' 

At the beginning of every couplet I also found: 
his right arm regularly went up, and precisely at 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 61 

the end and close of every rhyme came plump down 
again. Most happily at the eleventh line the young 
gentleman's miraculous memory was non-plus'd, and 
neither mama, nor any of his sisters, nor either of 
the Pug-dogs could at all help him out. — Thinks- 
I-to-myself — " I could if I would" — but I did not, 
Would you? — Ts". B. There were seventy more 
lines to come, and an R in almost every one 
of them, and time, as usual, flying briskly all the 
while. — 

{~This stop and impediment, however, was fatal 
to the young orator's progress, and therefore, at 
last, Mrs. Fidget being rested, they all prepared 
to go. Thinks-I-to-myself, now my poor mother 
will be happy again ! but she, good soul, seemed 
to have got quite fond of them in consequence of 
the extraordinary length of their stay : — she could 
not now so easily part with them : — she was sure 
Mrs. Fidget could not be thoroughly rested : — ■ 
the clock had but just struck two: — if they would 
but stay a little longer, my father would be come 
home from his ride,, and he would be greatly mor- 
tified to miss seeing them ; — but nothing would 

do; — go they must: Thinks- I-to-myself, now 

a fig for your friendship, Mrs. Fidget : — what, not 
stay when my mother so earnestly presses it ! not 



62 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

stay, when she declares yoiir going will mortify 
my worthy father ! No — nothing would stop them ; 
; — away they went; not however indeed without 
sundry promises on their part soon to call again, 
and divers most earnest entreaties on my mother's, 
on no account to forget it. 

They were scarce got out of the front-door be- 
fore my father entered : — " Are they really all gone 
at last?" says he, "I thought^they would have 
stayed till dooms-day : — Who irr'the world, were 
they all?" — "O dear," says n% mother, "why 
Mrs. Fidget and all her tribe; 'girls and boy, and 
two pug dogs :" " thank my sta%I escape d them," 
says my father; — Thinks-I-to-myself, great symp- 
toms of mortification my dear father shews at hav- 
ing had the misfortune to miss seeing them ! — " I 
declare," says my mother, "it is abominable to 
break in upon one in this manner ;— it was impos- 
sible to entertain such a groupe; so while Mrs. 
Fidget and I were in conversation, her young peo- 
ple and the dogs had nothing to do but to tease the 
bird, and dirty the furniture ; — that little monkey 
of a boy is always in mischief; — I could freely have 
boxed his ears ; — I thought he would have kill'd 
my poor bird;— I was in the midst of a letter to 
Caroline, and now it is too late for the post ;— hovv 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 63 

Mrs. Fidget can spend all her time in visiting and 
walking about in the manner she does, I cannot 
conceive ; — I am to take it as a great and singular 
favor, she tells me, as she always does every time 
she comes, thinking I suppose that I don't know 
she is never at home; — I think she'll lose that boy; 
— I never saw such a puny sickly child in my 

life; Thinks-I-to-myself, — O poor Mrs. Fidget; 

fine stout boy of its age ! 

My father, with a great deal of good breeding 
in general, w r as a plain, blunt man, in the mode of 
expressing his sentiments ; so that my mother had 
scarcely finished what she had to say, but my 
father burst out — " tiresome woman," says he, 
" she ought to be confined ; — she is always wan- 
dering about with a tribe of children and dos;s at 
her heels: — there's poor Mrs. Creepmouse is quite 
ill from her visits ; you know what a nervous crea- 
ture she is." 

! My father would have gone on ever so long 
probably in this strain had not the servant entered 
with a note ; which my mother immediately opened, 
and read aloud : the contents being to the follow- 
ing effect : — 

" Mr. and Mrs. Meekin present their compli- 
ments to Mr. and Mrs. Dermont, and shall be er- 



64 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

tremely happy to have the honor of their company 
to dinner on Saturday next at five o'clock." 
flhinks-I-to-myself, how civil, polite, and obliging! 

■ The servant was ordered to withdraw, and 

tell the messenger to wait : As soon as he was 

gone, " good God," says my father, " those peo- 
ple will never let us alone /—surely, we dined there 
last;" — my mother thought not; — my father 
thought they were for ever dining there ; — my mo- 
ther convinced him by a reference to her pocket- 
book, that Mr. and Mrs. Meekin were quite right 
as to the balance of debtor and creditor; — " well, 
only take care," says my father, " that we do not 
get into the habit of dining there above once or 
twice a year at the utmost ; — it is really too great 
a sacrifice." — " What do you mean to go then?" 
says my mother. " Go," says my father, " why 
I suppose we must ;" — " I wish they were further," 
says my dear mother ; — " I wish they were at Jeri- 
cho," says my dear father; — " I had rather do any 
thing than go on Saturday," says my mother: — 
" I had rather be. hang'd than ever go," says my 
father, " it is such an intolerable bore ;" — " well," 
says my mother, " but the servant's waiting ;" — 
so she took the pen, and away she wrote two or 
three lines in a moment ; — " there," says she to my 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 65 

father, "will that do?" Thinks- Lto-myseff, short 
and sharp probably ! my father, happily for me, 
read it aloud : — 

{" Mr. and Mrs. Dermont return their compli- 
ments to Mr. and Mrs. Meekin, will w r ait upon them 
with the greatest pleasure on Saturday to dinner." 

t Thinks- I-to-my self, well done my sweet tempered 
mama ! how mild and how forgiving! but my fa- 
ther surprised me most; instead of throwing it 
into the fire as I expected, he declared it would 
not only do, but do vastly well; — he therefore 
sealed it himself, rang the bell, gave it to the servant, 
and desired that he would give their best compli- 
ments ; — " and mind," says he, " you ask the ser- 
vant how they all do; be sure you make him un- 
derstand." Thinks-I-to- myself, what heavenly- Hand- 
edness! \yhat christian charity! 
; I expected the servant every moment to return 
with an account of our friends' health ; — but no 
such thing : my father and mother seemed to have 
quite forgot they had made the enquhy. I ven- 
tured to remind them of the servant's neglect. 
" Ah !" says my father, u my boy, you dortt know 
the world" Thinks-I-to-myself — what's that to 
the purpose ; — but I never went further than neces- 

F 



$6 THI.NKS-I-TO-MYS.ELF. 

sary. It seemed unaccountable to me what could 
be the nature of my father's and mother's senti- 
ments and feelings, to send with such earnestness 
to ask how their friends did, and never want an 
answer: — however, the servant did return soon 
after to bring some sandwiches, and my mother 
immediately asked him whether he had been care- 
ful to enquire how they all were, which the servant 
answered in the affirmative: — Well, Thmks-I-to- 
myself and how are they all then ? — no, not a word 
further, — dead or alive, it seemed to be all one to 
my father, my mother, and the servant, — not an 
item about the health of master or mistress, son or 
daughter, though I knew there was a house full of 
them: — Thinks- I-to-my self , as sure as can be that 
fellow knows something of the world; — but my 
contemplations were again broken in upon by the 
entrance of the servant w r ith another note, which 
my mother broke open as she had done the other, 
and read as before. 

■4 Sir Henry and Lady Lydiard beg the favor of 
Mr. and Mrs. Dermont's company to dinner at 
five o'clock on Saturday next." Thinks* Lto-my self, 
what's to be done now? — "let the man wait," 
says my mother; — "was ever any thing so un- 



TIIINKS-I-TO-MYSELT. 67 

lucky, Mr. Dermont ; had it come but a moment 
sooner we should have been totally disengaged ;" 
— " the deuce take the Meekins," saysmy father; — ■ 
" what can we do ?" says my mother ; — '* go by 
all means/' says my father, <l and send an excuse 
to the others f — M but it will be so rude/' says my 
mother : — " oh, never mind that/' says my father, 
" write a note, and I'll send it /' — " but what can 
I say?" says my mother; — " O say we were pre- 
viously engaged, and had forgot/' says my father: 
Thinks- Ltd-my self, what a bounce !— " Well, but 
then we must accept this invitation," says my mo- 
ther; — "by all means," saysmy father, "we al- 
ways meet a pleasant party at Sir Henry's ;" so a 
note was written which I neither saw nor heard, 
but I dare say it expressed great pleasure at being 
completely at liberty to wait upon them, for that 
seemed to be the reply they had agreed upon be- 
tween themselves. 

^The next thing was to write an excuse to the 
others : Thinks-I-to-myself, how will my dear ma- 
ma manage that ! Says my mother, " to be sure if 
we can get of, it will be delightful!" " Get off," 
says my father, " we must get off, — it is bore 
enough in common to go there, but to give up a 
pleasant party at Sir Henry Lydiard's, to dine 



68 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF, 

humdrum with the Meekins, is too much." By 
this time my mother had made some progress in 
her note of apology. — Thinks-I-to-myself, to be sure 
she is telling them the exact truth, for she takes 
no time to frame any fudge or falsehood :— well, it 
was soon finished, and as soon read to my worthy 
father, while I had the happiness to hear, and to 
treasure up the exact contents of it ; — they were 
I apprehend precisely as follows : — 

" Mr. and Mrs. Dermont present their compliments 
to Mr, and Mrs. Meekin, are extremely sorry and con- 
cerned to be under the necessity of informing them, 
that when they answered their obliging and kind 
invitation for Saturday, they had, by accident forgot- 
ten a previous engagement to dine at Sir Henry 
Lydiard's, which will entirely prevent them the great 
pleasure they had promised themselves of dining on 
that day at Meekin Place. They hope another 
time to be more fortunate, as it is with extreme re- 
gret that they feel compelled to send this excuse." 

Thinks-I-to-myself, Lord have mercy upon me, 
how w r ell my dear mother seems to know the world ! 
I actually began to be alarmed ; — I loved both my 
father and mother sincerely : — I had judged them 
to be above all deceit, and yet what was I to think 
noxy ? I pondered and ruminated upon it a good 



THlNKS-1-TO-MYSELl-. 69 

deal, when the servant entered a third time:— 
H Ma'am/ 1 says he, t$ there's some company com- 
ing down the avenue, will you please to be at 
home?" Thinks- I-to-my self, please to be at home? 
—Why where else can she please to be? — < 
" Oh/' says my father hastily, <( not at home, not at 
home, unless it should be so and so, and so and so" 
enumerating rapidly a select list of worthies. As 
there was a necessity for the carriage to pass the 
window of the room where w r e were sitting, and it 
w r as too near to admit of our going elsewhere, my 
I father and mother got both behind a great skreen, 
while I w r as hastily hurried up into a nook by the 
book-case : — Thhiks-I-to-myself, I suppose this is 
being not at home! — as the servant had inadver- 
tently left the door open, I observed that it was 
judged necessary, for fear of discovery, to stifle all 
sorts of natural or other noises, even to the inhala- 
I tion and exhalation of the breath of life, so that my 
father stood with his pocket handkerchief stuffed 
into his mouth, and my mother with her lips 
pressed close and flat against the back of the skreen, 
while I poked mine as well as I could behind the 
book -case, whence a little dust seemed to arise that 
made me fear greatly that a sneeze would be inevita- 
ble : — -while we were thus grouped, expecting every 



70 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

moment that the carriage would drive off, in came 
the servant with two of the finest ladies in the 
neighbourhood, who actually discovered my father 
and mother behind the skreen, and who were 
obliged accordingly to come out, which they con- 
trived to do with the greatest apparent delight, so 
that I of course apprehended the visitors must be 
some of the so and sos that were doomed to be ad- 
mitted : — " I was sure you were at home," said 
they, and so they might well be, for another ser- 
vant whom they had met in the avenue had told 
them so, as it turned out in the end : — " we could not 
think who it was," says my mother, u had we had 
the least idea of its being you, we should have been 
at home of course, but we had intended to deny 
ourselves if it had been any body else." 

(I would have given any thing to have known 
enough of the world to have determined whether I 
ought to come out of my hiding place or not, for 
my father and mother in their confusion had quite 
forgotten me, and the company had managed to 
seat themselves so as to be wholly incapable of 
investigating the contents of the nook in which I 
happened to stand. — Thinks-I-to-myself, they talk 
so loud I may at least breathe more freely, but at 
length what I was most afraid of, actually befel me; 



THINKS-I-TQ-MYSEL1*. /I 

some dust, or some smoke, or some sun-shine, or 
something or other, or the mere expectation and 
alarm of it, got up my nose, and so affected the 
olfactory and other nerves of that noble organ, as 
to produce an indispensable necessity of taking 
some measures to stifle the storm of sneeze with 
which I seemed to be threatened, — unfortunately 
I had not time to go to my pocket, so that I was 
obliged to let it all depend upon the weak resist- 
ance to be produced by the interposition of my 
five fingers, which having as every body knows, 
as many interstices as there are fingers, had no 
other effect but that of ramifying and dividing the 
noise into as many parts as there were fingers, so 
that out it all came Jive-fold louder than there was 
any natural necessity for ; the sounds, besides be- 
ing severally of a description by no means fit for 
the refined ears of a courtly company ; — the effect 
w r as such as might be expected ; — the two strang- 
ers were nearly thrown from their seats by the 
shock and alarm of so unexpected a salute, while 
my father and mother were little less surprised, and 
at the same time much more confused ; I w r as of 
course obliged to come out, and an attempt was 
made to laugh the matter off, but one of the ladies 
was really so alarmed as to be near fainting, and 



72 THINKS-I-TO MYSELF. 

though she made every effort to seem to forgive 
me, yet I was sure by her looks that she wished 
me dead, or worse, if possible ; — they took the earliest 
opportunity afterwards of ordering their carriage 
to the door, and as they quitted the house, I se- 
cretly gave them my blessing ;> it then first came 
to my knowledge that instead of being any of the 
so and so's that had a fair claim to be admitted, 
my poor father and mother would as willingly have 
seen the witch of Endor, and that the whole visit 
had been the effect of accident and blunder. 

But what made it worse was, that as they got 
into the carriage, some still more disagreeable peo- 
ple came to the door, at that very instant, whom 
it became therefore an equal matter of impossibility 
to refuse, and who were accordingly forced upon 
us for a full hour :—Thinks-I-to-myself y nothing 
can exceed the patience of my dear father and mo- 
ther, when I saw them bow and curtsey to these 
additional guests, expressing joy rather than sor- 
row at their untimely visit, and giving them every 
other testimony of a hearty welcome. These were 
new comers into the neighbourhood, and it was 
I the return of their first visit. — My father and mo- 
ther knew as much of them, and they of my father 
and mother, as the Emperor of China knows of 



THlNKS-1-TO-MYSELF. 73 

the Cherokee Indians. They were not in that ele- 
vated rank of life that excites confidence even 
among strangers, nor did they appear to have 
much more knowledge of the world in general than 
myself; I did not think it worth my while to stay 
very long in the room after their arrival, having no 
great prospect either of edification or amusement 
from the conversation of the w T hole groupe taken 
together. Mrs. Fidget and her party, and the 
fine ladies whom I was near sneezing into fits, had 
plenty to say for themselves, but the gentleman 
and lady that had succeeded to them, seemed to 
have not much larger a vocabulary at their com- 
mand than a poll-parrot. The utmost efforts of 
my poor father and mother to get them to make a 
few advances of themselves towards conversation 
seemed entirely to fail ; — so that all that was ut- 
tered was by starts and jumps, with long intervals 
of dead silence ; — as the sun was shining full into 
the room, and had been so all the morning, my 
mother ventured to remark that u it was a beautiful 
day/' to which both assented ; — " but rather too 
warm," says my father ; — " rather too warm cer- 
tainly," said they both at once ; — and a dead si- 
lence followed. ^ Are you fond of the country V 
says my father; w very fond," said they both, and 



74 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

another dead silence ensued. — " Are you a sports- 
man ?" said my father ; " No/' says he, and a dead 
silence ; — " Are you any thing of a farmer?" " No i - 
a dead silence. — H Are you fond of fishing:" " No ;" 
and another dead silence :— ~ while exactly in the 
same manner was my mother engaged in pumping 
the lady: — "Are you a great walker?" "Yes; ,r 
and a dead silence. — " Do you draw at all ?" " No ; w 
and a dead silence. — " How many young folks 
have you ?" " Five ;" and a dead silence. Thinks- 
I-to-my$elf, surely they fancy they are being tried 
for their lives ! I could bear it no longer, but found 
means to depart, and yet I learnt afterwards that they 
had the conscience to pay quite as long a visit as if 
they had been the most agreeable people in the world * 
I It was from such scenes as these, continually re- 
peated, that I acquired the habit I speak of, — of 
soliloquy and suppressed remarks ; often have I 
wished to get the better of it since I have been 
grown up, but it still haunts me, — for every ten 
words that I utter out aloud, twenty or forty per- 
haps are mumbled in silence to myself; — the worst 
of it is, that though nobody can have been more 
disposed than myself, from my very childhood, to 
love my fellow-creatures ; — my mental remarks^ 
spite of my teeth, will be continually suggesting 



TIIINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 7 5 

something bad or ridiculous concerning them :—I 
N have detected such deliberate falsehoods, such atro- 
cious inconsistencies, such barefaced hypocrisy, 
such base dissimulation, that often my very hair 
\ has stood an end when I felt a " Thinks- I-to-my- 
self" coming upon me. 

As I have ever been a dutiful and most affection- 
ate son, the reader may easily suppose my concern 
was not small to gather this mortifying experience 
of the ways of the world, most immediately and 
expressly, indeed for some time, solely from the 
conduct of my beloved parents, for it was from them 
that I first learnt, that it was possible, to be ex- 
\ tremely happy to have the pleasure of seeing the 
most tiresome people in the world ! — that it was pos- 
sible to be much mortified at being prevented the 
happiness of dining with a w T hole heap of insufferable 
bores ; — that it could be necessary to hope to be 
favoured or honoured with the company of persons, 
whom in our hearts w r e thoroughly wished at Jeri- 
cho. — These things induced me to say at the be- 
ginning of my book, that I believe I was born of 
honest parents : — honest I really think they were, 
only that their honesty w r as mixed up with a large 
quantity of dishonesty : — that is, they were as 
honest as it is possible for people to be, who can be 



/O THINKS-l-TO-MYSELF. 

happy to be made miserable ; pleased with disagree- 
ables ; mortified by what is delightful; — who can 
hope for what they most dread; ask as a favour, 
what they would give the world not to receive ; and 
accept with great pleasure what they would give 
the world to decline. I w r as uneasy, as I have said, 
as long as these discoveries all tended to the re- 
proach of my beloved parents. Surely, Thinks-I- 
to-myself I am born of a race of hypocrites and de- 
ceivers. There cannot be a molecule of honesty 
left in the whole current of the blood of the Der- 
monts ! — many uneasy days and nights I passed in 
endeavouring to think better of people I loved so 
much ; — but it w r as long before I had any fair op- 
portunity of being at all undeceived, and perhaps I 
never should, had it not been for a little bit of stra- 
tagem, which upon any less occasion, I should have 
disdained. 

One day w T hen I was sitting with my mother, as 
usual, but a considerable time after the scene I have 
been describing, the identical party I have before 
spoken of, came again ; — videlicit, Mrs. and Miss 
Fidgets, the troublesome child, and the two pugs. — 
Again, was Mrs. Fidget delighted to see my mother, 
and my mother her ; — again, did the one intend it 
as a great and singular favour, and again did the 






THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 77 

other receive it as such ; — again was the troublesome 
child, instead of getting his ears boxed, as I thought 
he deserved, pronounced to be a sweet child, and a 
very jine boy of his age, though in reality as puny 
and sickly as my mother really thought him when 
he was with us last ; — again, were the dirty pugs 
admired and caressed : — again, were they pressed to 
stay longer, thanked for their kindness, and urged 
to come again : — Thinks-I-to-myself, w r hat can all 
this mean ? Is my mother that downright hypo- 
crite, that artful deceiver, deliberately to impose 
upon all her friends in this manner ; and are they 
all such silly dupes as to be so easily taken in ? 
Thinks-I-to-myself, I know what I'll do ; — so I 
jumped up from my seat, hastily quitted the room, 
and ran into a field near the house, which happened 
to be separated from the avenue by a high and 
thick hawthorn hedge, which continued a consi- 
derable way, and wiiere I knew I should be able to 
hear all the friendly remarks of the company as 
thev quitted Grumblethorpe Hall, 

I had not been long there before out came the 
whole groupe, and as good luck would have it, they 
came quite near enough to me to admit of my re- 
ceiving into my poor innocent ears, every soft and 
gentle expression that fell from their amiable tongues, 



78 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF- 

" Thank my stars," says the worthy Mrs. Fidget, 
" that visit's over! we need not go there again for 
some time ; it is all so formal, and so prim, one's 
half afraid to open one's mouth :" " Poor little 
. Tommy, how do you like that old lady !" " Not at 
1 all," says the pretty child ; rt nor I neither, my 
dear," says Mrs. Fidget ; "nor I neither," says 
Miss Fidget : " nor I," says Miss Matilda ; u nor 
I," says little Miss Nancy ; — " what a strange crea- 
ture," adds Mrs. Fidget, " is that hopeful son of 
her's ! he never speaks a word ; — I believe he's an 
idiot ! and yet to see the foolish fondness and cre- 
dulity of parents, I verily believe they fancy him 
wise enough to be Prime Minister ; — but he'll die, 
I think : — he's as thin as a threadpaper, and looks 
for all the world in that black jacket of his, like a 
half-starved chimney sweeper. — Did you see how 
he muttered something to himself as he went out 
of the room ? It will be a great mercy if he is taken 
out of the world, for it is a shame for such clodpoles 
to be born to such an inheritance : — here, Matilda, 
\ we must turn down here ; I may as well go and 
see old Mrs. Creepmouse now I am so near, and 
then we shall have killed tw r o birds with one stone." 
Thinks-I-to-myself, so you will, Mrs. Fidget, or 
perhaps three ; for she seemed to have taken pretty 



Til INKS- l-TO-MYS ELF. 79 

good aim at myself as well as at my mother, and 
N old Mrs. Creepmouse, and I confess I felt so utterly 
astonished and confounded, that I did not quite 
know whether I stood on my head or my heels ; — 
however, the first thing that struck me was, 
that my dear parents, w r ere quite exonerated : 
v Thinks-I-to-myself, it all comes of their knowing 
'the world! no, there's nothing in it beyond self- 
defence. Mrs. Fidget's singular favour and pro- 
digious friendship, is evidently no better than a de- 
liberate attempt to kill my poor mother with the 
same stone she kills Mrs. Creepmouse, and to re- 
joice all the way home at having done it effectually. 
I returned to the house, heartily glad to have made 
so successful an experiment, though instead of 
curing me of my malady, I plainly saw it woulcl in- 
crease it abominably. I went back to my mother, 
and as might naturally be expected, found her as 
much delighted to be left alone again, as the Fid- 
gets w x ere to get away. I was almost tempted to 
say, do you know that you and Mrs. Creepmouse 
have both been by this time killed by one stone ? 
but I must have, by doing so, betrayed my plan of 
listening, which I had great reason to think would 
have excited her displeasure ; for she had always 
discouraged it as a matter of great impertinence, 



80 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

great disingenuousness, and great meanness, both 
in myself and my sister, adding the old proverb, 
that " listeners never hear any good of themselves/' 
which I had pretty well found to be true, in the 
compliment paid by the lovely Mrs. Fidget, to my 
poor thread-paper form, chimney-sweeping jacket, 
and clod-pole. 

It would be impossible to recount but the hun- 
dredth thousandth part of the strange scenes to 
w T hich I was witness, and the strange remarks they 
suggested, before I was grown up to be a man : — 
but most of them till then were of the nature I have 
alluded to. My enmity to Mrs. Fidget soon wore 
off as I made greater progress in the knowledge of 
the world. I soon found that Mrs. Creepmouse 
could just as willingly have killed Mrs. Fidget, as 
Mrs. Fidget could have killed Mrs. Creepmouse, 
and that in the true way of visiting, the more havoc 
and destruction one stone could make, the better 
to all parties. I soon found that people were trouble- 
some to each other by settled compact, treaty and 
agreement, not signed, sealed, and delivered indeed 
in any form, but concluded to be so, and therefore 
never to be violated. I soon found that none were 
duped, none really taken in, none really deceived : 
— that u I am extremely happy to see you/' meant 



rilINKS-I-TO-MYSF/LF. 81 

no more in reality than, " that I am come because 
I could not help it," and that u pray stay longer," 
implied little else than u I wish you were gone," or 
some such elegant valediction :— still I could not 
break myself of my soliloquies ; they were for ever 
recurring ; — in the mean time, I tried to be as civil 
and decent as I could in my reflections ; — Thinks- L- 
to-myself, that's a lie ! — never once passed the very 
threshold of my thoughts ; — but when any thing 
very contrary to the truth seemed to strike me, es- 
pecially where ladies were concerned, the utmost 
asperity of thought indulged, was no greater than, 
Thinks- I-to-mgself\ that's a bounce; — or &jib; — or 
hum; — and so on. 

I have never yet told the reader, though Mrs. 
Fidget in the avenue had nearly let the cat out of 
the bag, that I w T as born to a considerable inherit- 
ance and a title ; my father, through his mother, 
who was the daughter of a Scotch Earl; being heir 
after the death of a distant female relation, to a 
Scotch Barony. You may be pretty sure that all 
this was not unknown to many of the visitors at 
Grumblethorpe Hall ; and that the poor Clodpole 
was an object of interest to others besides my wor- 
thy parents : — in the very next parish lived a gen- 
tleman and lady, who had inherited an over-grown 

G 



82 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

fortune from a most distinguished ancestor, namely, 
John Twist, Esq. the great tobacconist : — seventy 
or eighty thousand pounds were nothing: — they 
were thought to have got from him in all as much 
as three or four hundred thousand, with w 7 hich they 
had purchased a magnificent seat in the neighbour- 
hood, and unluckily, for me, their lands joined my 
father's : — I wish every acre of it had been in Nova 
Zembla. These good folks happened, as is generally 
the case, I think, not to be over-burthened with 
children : — had they been day labourers they would 
v have had a hundred : — but all their progeny w r as 
one only daughter ; — heiress of course in the eye of 
the world, to all the leavings of the rich tobacco- 
nist. 

My father, God bless him, was not covetous, but 
he knew that a title brought with it large and un- 
governable expences ; — he had no more pride than 
he had covetousness, and I believe would as willing- 
ly have seen the expected Barony branch suddenly 
off from the main stem of his inheritance, into ever 
so distant a collateral ramification, as come down 
cither perpendicularly or zigzag exactly upon his 
head ; — but come it would ; — and who could help 
it ? while the lands originally attached to it, were 
expected, some of them to stick to the earldom, 



THIN KS-I-TO-MYS ELF. 83 

which went into another line, and some to an elder 
barony, and some to this, and that, and t'other, till 
nothing but an empty coronet seemed left to my 
poor father ; — his own estate was excellent for a 
private gentleman, but he did not like this poor 
Barony that was coming down to make him more 
conspicuous, 

(jVIiss Grizilda Twist was just three years younger 
than myself; — all the pains that were possible had 
been taken to make her extremely disagreeable ; — 
she had been indulged from infancy in every whim 
and caprice that could enter her w r eak mind, and 
/ over-loaded with accomplishments that filled her head 
with conceit; — she was abominably proud, as might 
be expected, and by no means of an amiable tem- 
per : — I would describe her person, but it may seem 
invidious ; — for, perhaps, many more amiable per- 
sons may jointly or severally have similar features, 
and as I mean that every body in the world shall 
read this book, I wish to give no personal offence 
to any. I leave you all therefore, gentle readers, 
/ to guess whether her hair was black, brown, or 
bright red; — whether her eyes were hazel, blue, or 
emerald green; — whether her nose w r as Roman, 
Grecian, Aquiline, or turned up in front ivith large 
open nostrils, — whether her teeth were ivory white 

g 2 



84 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

and even, or black and jagged ; — I will fairly say, I 
did not myself admire her person, but nothing 
more; — ladies are ladies. 

0>ne day, as my father and myself were walking 
round the grounds, he began about the peerage that 
was likely to come to us : says he, " Bob, you 
know you are to be a Lord ;" " I have heard so, 
Sir," says I : u so much the worse, my boy," says 
he ; u certainly, Sir," says I, (for I never contra- 
dicted him) — but, Thinks-I-to-myself, all the while, 
— Why so? — " You know r , I suppose," says he, 
" that no estate comes with it?" " Not till you 
told me, Sir," says I ; — " A title without an estate 
is a sad incumbiance," says he. — I assented, though 
I cared no more about it, than the man in the moon : 
— " This property is great enough in its way," ad- 
ded my father, " but not sufficient for a Peer ;" — 
I forget what reply I made to this, for just at that 
moment, he turned his right leg over the upper bar 
of the stile, and there he sat. Thinks- I-to-my self, 
jr*$- ( ' We'll ride a cock-horse to Banbury Cross :" — 
What in the world makes him sit so ? Says my 
father, slapping his left thigh, " this leg, Bob, is in 
Grumblethorpe domains :" — Thinks-I-to-myself he 
is going mad ! then slapping his right thigh, — " in 
what domain is this leg, Bob?" Thinks-I-to myself, 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 85 

he foams at the mouth ! — however he went on ; — 
" This stile, Bob, you must know, exactly divides 
our property from Mr. Twist's." I was delighted 
to hear him talk like a rational creature again : he 
looked at me, however, as if still waiting for a re- 
ply, though I had said, " does it, Sir," or " yes," 
or some such thing in answer already : he repeated 
the remark. Thinks-I-to-myself, — what can my 
father mean ? — " Many estates, Bob," continues 
he, " pass down straight forward through a long 
long line of lineal descendants ;— some go off at right 
angles one knows not where, for want of children to 
succeed ; — some gently and smoothly glide into 
other families as by adoption, sale or marriage ;" 
he again made a solemn pause. Thinks-I-to-myself, 
what next ! — " What a pity," says he, " Bob, 
that poor Mr. Twist should have no son !" — I said 
not a word : — " a daughter/ 9 continues he, " must 
carry it all into some other family ;" — I said no- 
thing : — " I suppose," says he, " there's many a 
young man looking out for Miss Twist :" — Thinks- 
I-to-myself, let 'em look ! — Just at this moment we 
were interrupted. My father was called home to 
some persons who wanted him upon business, so 
recommending it to me to continue my walk on the 



86 THINKS-I-TO-MYSE-LIV 

Twist side of the stile, he quitted me and returned 
to the house. 

The Twist side of the stile was the way to the 
vicarage. There were none of the neighbours I 
liked better than the family there. Mr. and Mrs. 
Mandeville were most amiable and worthy people, 
and not being over rich, had a large family ; — some 
of the boys had been occasionally my play-mates, 
as the daughters had at times visited my sister. I 
found myself got very near to their gate before I 
was aware even of my own designs. It happened 
that in my ignorance of the world, as it is called, 
I was in some points as much unacquainted with 
/ myself as with other people. I had long perceived 
that the vicarage was the only house I really liked 
to visit. I had also perceived, but I could not 
quite account for it, that when Emily Mandeville, 
which was the name of the eldest daughter, either 
went out of the room, or came into the room, spoke 
to me, or I spoke to her, I had the queerest sensa- 
tion about the region of my heart, that could be 
conceived. It seemed to beat and bump ten times 
quicker than common. Thinks- I-to-my self it's St. 
Vitus's dance. 

These symptoms I knew to be greatly and rapidly 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSKLI'. 87 

increasing, so that I had a great mind to ask the 
apothecary about it : we had always been great and 
particular friends : — Whether her heart bumped as 
much as mine, I had never yet asked her, — but she 
always appeared happy in my company ; — her tem- 
per was the sweetest in the world, and as to her 
person I certainly need be under no such scruple as 
I was about Miss Twist's, if I could but describe it ; 
for, let all the females in the world read my book, 
none of them could wish to be more elegantly beau- 
tiful than Emily Mandeville ; — every one would of 
course desire to resemble her in " voice and feature, 
form and gait :" — let every one therefore only fancy 
her as beautiful and amiable and lovely as themselves, 
and I need say no more. — Thinks-I-to~my$elf, that's 
enough. 

I found Mrs. Mandeville and her daughters all 
busily engaged : — some working, some reading, and 
some drawing. Mr. Mandeville, though not rich, 
nor over-well endowed, had in his early days kept 
much good company, as had Mrs. Mandeville also, 
so that, in a simple and plain manner, every thing 
had an air of elegance ;— there was no vulgarity ; — 
every thing was equally distant from a vain display 
of finery and a shabby meanness. Mr. Mandeville 
had travelled, and was well acquainted both with 



8S THINKS-I-TG-MYSELF. 

books and men. He had a fixed and rooted respect 
and reverence for every thing connected with reli- 
gion,, without the smallest tincture of enthusiasm 
or bigotry. He was, perhaps, altogether the most 
polished man in the neighbourhood, though many 
looked down upon him from above : while from be- 
low every body looked up to him ; that is, — the 
poor all loved and respected him, for they knew the 
man : — the rich knew in general only his office ; 
some were too great in their own conceits to asso- 
ciate with a country vicar, and some were of too 
mean capacity to be even capable of associating 
with him : — as for my father and mother, I must say 
they thoroughly understood his worth, and in their 
intercourse with him, I can venture to assert, thought 
of nothing else. My father found him much above 
the common run of his country associates, and my 
mother found in Mrs. Mandeville, a friend she 
could trust ; — for she was free from vanity, and 
disdained all parade of forms and pretensions. 
; During my visit at the vicarage the morning I 
am speaking of^ something led us to advert to our 
great neighbours, the Twists. Mrs. Mandeville ob>- 
served, that Miss Twist w r as extremely accomplished ; 
— that she had had masters of all descriptions, ancl 
of course must have learnt a great deal: I confess 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 89 

it surprised me always to hear any body speak well 
of the absent, and therefore, (though as for poor 
Miss Twist, I abominated her) yet I heartily joined 
in the encomiums. I agreed with Mrs. Mandeville 
in all she said, for how could I do otherwise ? Miss 
Twist had had many masters, and therefore might 
naturally be expected to know much; — far more 
than I thought it necessary for her to know : — she 
had learnt I know not what; — music, dancing, 
painting, these were common, vulgar accomplish- 
ments; — she had attended a world of fashionable 
lectures, and was therefore supposed to understand 
Chemistry, Geology, Philology, and a hundred 
other ologies, for what I know, enough, as I thought, 
to distract her brain : — however, I observed that 
when I agreed so much with Mrs- Mandeville, my 
dear friend Emily suddenly rose and quitted the 
room : — Thinks- I-to-my self, she's gone to fetch her 
thimble, or her scissars, or something or other, but I 
immediately felt that bumping at my heart, of which 
I have spoken come on so much, that I wished Miss 
/ Twist and all her accomplishments at the bottom of 
the sea. — As it was growing late, I found it neces- 
sary to depart, and therefore getting up and shaking 
them all by the hand, I wished them good morning, 
adding, as I shook the last hand of the interesting 



90 THJNKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

groupe, pray tell Emily I wish her good bye, — 
which brought back all the bumping to so great a 
degree, that as I walked away I could scarce move 
or breathe. Thinks-I-to-myself, it's certainly an 
apothecary's concern, — I must ask Mr. Bolus about 
it, as sure as can be, in a day or two, 

When I got home, I found that among the visi- 
tors that had been at the Hall that morning, were 
Mr. Mrs. and Miss Twist, and her governess : I 
thought my father and mother seemed somewhat 
concerned that I had been out of the way, but re- 
proof I received none. — They appeared to be in no 
manner displeased that I had been at the vicarage ; 
— but the visit of the Twists, I found, had ended in 
an invitation, particularly extending to myself. 

We were in three days from that time, to go to 
dine at Nicotium Castle : On the morning of the 
day we were to dine there, I found my mother 
prone to dwell upon the beauties of Nicotium Castle : 
— what a delightful place it was, adding also, as 
Mrs. Mandeville had done, what an accomplished 
girl Miss Twist was ; how very learned, and how 
very clever ! It is amazing what a relief I felt to 
the bumping of my heart, whenever the conversa- 
tion took this turn ; — so that I began to take a 
pleasure in talking of Miss Twist. 1 was so easy 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 91 

and comfortable the moment her name was men- 
tioned, that any body would have been encouraged 
to go on with it: — had Emily Mandeville been 
mentioned, my malady would have returned so im- 
mediately, that no doubt the conversation would 
have stopped at once : — but this never happened. 
Nobody thought of mentioning her to me, and I 
could have died upon the spot sooner than have 
mentioned her name to any body else. 
\ The day came for our visit to Nicotium Castle. 
Thinks- I-to-my self I'll ask if I mayn't dine at the 
vicarage : so at breakfast I humm'd and haw'd, 
and ventured to say, u I had rather be excused going 
to Nicotium Castle." My father looked black ; — 
my mother looked I know not how : — Thinks- I-to- 
my self it don't seem agreeable. — " You cannot 
with propriety stay at home," says my father, 
" because you were so particularly invited :" Thinks- 
I-to-my self what if I say I had the misfortune to be 
previously engaged! — so says I, as bold as brass, — 
" but I was previously engaged to dine at the 
Vicarage;" — " previously engaged !" says my dear 
mother, " that cannot be : — it would be a great act 
of rudeness to put off the Twist's with an excuse 
like that." Thinks-I~to-myself I don't know enough 



92 THINKS-1-TO-MYSELF. 

of the world to understand the exact nature of these 
put off 's. My father said, " I must go ;" — I made 
therefore no further objections. 

The hour came, and away we went. — Every thing 
at the castle was most splendid. — There was every 
sort of rarity : — every thing that it was not easy to 
get : I would have given the world to have sat by 
my dear mother, but as accident would have it,- 1 
got exactly between Miss Twist and her governess. 
Thinks- I-to-myself, I hope she won't ask me about 
any of the ologies : — as it happened she did not ; — 
but she talked to me very often \ — offered me abun- 
dance of nice things, and as for Mr. and Mrs. Twist, 
nothing could possibly exceed their attention. 
Thinks- I-to-myself) a fig for Mrs. Fidget : — Clod- 
pole is somebody of consequence at last ! In the 
evening, as more company came, w r e found that it 
was to end in a ball. I would have given ever so 
much to have danced with my father or mother : — 
not that I was so ignorant as not to know that this 
was impossible, but I felt so inexpressibly shy as to 
dancing with any body else. Thinks- I-to-myself, 
I'll go and sit with the fiddlers : — but unhappily 
just as I was going, Mr. Twist came behind me :— 
" Young Gentleman/' says he, " you must open the 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 93 

Ball with ray daughter f Thinks-I-to-myself if I 
must, I must ;— so away I went, up to the top of 
about twenty couple. 

I had learnt plenty of Latin and Greek, of my tutor, 
but as for dancing, I knew but little of it: — Thinks- 
I-to-myself, I wish I were a cow r , or a sheep : for if 
ever they dance, they are not particular about steps ; 
whereas I scarce seemed to know whether I was to 
begin with my heels or my toes : however, away 
we went, and with a little pulling and hauling, and 
pushing and shoving, I got at last to the bottom 
of the room : Miss Twist twisted in and out so 
adroitly, that w T e happily arrived at our journey's 
end, without any lives lost or limbs broken, though 
I thought all seemed to be in danger : " Pray," 
/ says Miss Twist, " don't engage yourself to any 
body else;" — Thinks-I-to-myself, I wish I could: 
— in the mean time, all the young men in the room 
I observed came to ask her to dance, but she was. 
engaged for the whole evening to Mr. Robert Der- 
mont: — Thinks- I-to-my self, I'll let you off! — but 
nothing would do ; — I was fixed for the evening ; 
and at supper, had to preside with the amiable 
heiress of the castle, at the second table. — Thinks- 
I-to-myself, I wish I was at home, and a bed, and 



94 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 



asleep ! — however,- at last, the entertainment hap- 
pily came to an end, and away we all went. 

As we were upon our return, my mother observed 
how much I had been honoured in having had 
Miss Twdst for a partner, — intimating that all the 
other young men that were there, envied me. 
Thinks- I-to-my self, well they might ! but another 
time, I had rather they than me ; — however, luckily 
I escaped all my bumping at the heart; Emily 
Mandeville was not of the party. Mr. and Mrs. 
Twist's invitation did not extend to the Vicarage; 
— but what was particularly provoking, when I got 
to bed at night, I felt a great bumping because 
she was not there. Thinks- I-to-my self, I must cer- 
tainly take some physic. 

The very day after the ball Mrs. and Miss 
Twist called upon my mother again. Much of the 
conversation, of course, turned upon the company 
that had met together the night before. Mrs. 
Twist expressed great satisfaction that her daugh- 
ter had so proper a partner : — " I don't like her to 
dance, ma'am/' says she, " but with people of 
family !" Thinks- I-to-my self, — " You know, Bob, 
you are to be a lord !" — and now it's out ! — I be- 
gan now to have some suspicion how the land lay, as 



THIN KS-I-TO-MY SELF. 95 

they say : — I began now to discern that the Twists 
knew something about the stile as well as my fa- 
ther. Thinks- I-to-myself, — as sure as can be, they 
are inclined to replenish my empty coronet, and 
interweave a few leaves of tobacco w 7 ith the Baro- 
nial balls ; — however, nothing of all this was suf- 
fered to pass my lips. I looked upon it all as a 
good scheme, and admirably calculated to cure my 
bumping of heart ; — for, Thinks-I-to-myself, it is im- 
possible I could pass my life with Emily Mande- 
ville, since my heart bumps so dreadfully, even at 
a distance. 

It was amazing the number of civilities and in- 
vitations that passed now between Nicotiurn Cas- 
tle and Grumblethorpe Hall. They were continu- 
ally coming to us, or we going to them. Mrs, 
Twist was always talking of people of family ; — 
my father and mother always lamenting to me the 
expectation of the unendowed Barony. All this 
while, I continued in the habit of visiting at the 
Vicarage, though my heart bumped so excessively, 
whenever I was there, that I thought I must en- 
tirely give it up. 

One day, as I was walking in the garden with 
Mrs. Mandeville and the females of the family, it 
came into mv head that Emilv would like to have 



96 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

a beautiful moss rose, that I had just gathered : 
Thinks-I-to-myself I'll go and stick it in her bosom : 
— at that very moment, I had such an extraordinary 
seizure of the bumping at my heart, that I was 
ready to drop; — but. what appeared to me more 
strange was, that I could not go to her, do what I 
would, — for the first time in my life, I felt a sort of 
dread of her : while Mrs. Mandeville had been 
questioning me about the ball at Nicotium Castle, 
a little before, I thought she looked displeased with 
me, and when I expected it of her as a friend that 
she would have liked to hear of the notice that had 
been taken of me, I observed she walked quite 
away : — I had never quarrelled with her in all my 
life, nor she with me : — I would have done any 
thing to have served her, or pleased her ; and now 
that I felt afraid of her, I still seemed to want to 
serve her, and please her more than ever : Thinks- 
I-to-myself certainly I am bewitched; — soon after 
she came up to us of her own accord : Thinks-I-to- 
myself, now I'll give the rose: — so I went to her 
with it, and was going to offer it, but my tongue 
suddenly got so perfectly dry in my mouth, that 
I'll be hanged if I could speak a word. Thinks-I- 
to-myself I am certainly going to die. I was so 
frightened, I got awav as soon after as I could ; — 



/ 



THINK S-I-TO-MYS ELF. 97 

but the bumping continued all the way home, worse 
I think than ever. I was afraid to tell my mother 
of it because I knew she would send for Mr. Bolus, 
and that always ended in such severe and long- 
continued discipline, generally beginning with an 
emetic, which tore me to pieces, that I always kept 
my maladies to myself as long as I could. 

As my sister was just come home, I asked her 
about it, but she only laughed at me, though I could 
not tell why : I got into my father's library one 
morning, in order to try if I could find my case in 
any of the physical books there, of which he had a 
store; — I looked into a good many, just running 
over the symptoms of each, which caught my eye, 
as being in capital letters, thus, — symptoms, — and 
it is past all conception, what a variety of diseases 
I seemed to have ; — for to look for bumping only, 
was nothing ; — the more I read, the more symptoms 
I detected ; — I was not aware of a hundredth part 
of what I suffered, till the book suggested them ; — I 
plainly saw my case to be (at least I thought so 
then) a complication of all the classes, orders, genera, 
and species of disease, that had ever afflicted the 
race of man. As I went along and questioned my- 
self as to the several symptoms of the different disor- 
ders as laid down in the book, I found I had not 

H 



98 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

only bumpings, but dreadful pains in my head and 
loi?is, with a weariness of limbs, stretching, yawning, 
shivering, and shaking, which are pretty plain signs, 
as any body must allow, of an approaching fever : 
I had a rigor or chillness, pains in my back, difficulty 
of breathing ; I had a violent pricking pain in one 
of the sides, deep down among my ribs, which was 
manifestly a pleurisy or peripneumony ; — I could 
not exactly discern which : — I had violent flushings 
in the face, disturbed sleep, and a singing in my ears, 
which seemed to me to indicate a phrenitis : — I had a 
painful tension on the right side also, just opposite the 
pricking pain on my left, under the false ribs, which 
I knew at once to be a disordered liver ; — in short, I 
kept looking and looking, till I was evidently con- 
vinced, that I had not a sound part about me, and I 
should, I am persuaded, have taken to my bed and 
died, to the great joy of Mrs. Fidget, if it had not 
been that I rather wished to die. Ever since Emily 
Mandeville had looked grave at me, I had felt as 
bold as a lion about dying, and I will venture to 
say, could have resolutely walked into the very arms 
of old Dry-bones with his hour-glass, had I but 
met him any where in my walks. 

I did, however, take a little medicine, by advice 
of the books, picked up here and there. I managed 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSEJ.F. 99 

to buy some ipecacuanha, asafatida, Glauber's salt, 
and compound tincture of senna, which mixing up 
with a small parcel of jalap, and some succotrine 
aloes, (not very regularly I confess, for I knew 
nothing of the proper proportions,) I took a tea- 
spoonful night and morning, for three days, which 
so effectually moved my stomach, as to give me, as 
I thought, the fairest chance of a perfect recovery : 
/ — how r ever, not so : I could not reach the bumping 
after all, which occurred so instantaneously upon 
the smallest recollection of Emily Mandeville, that 
had she been old and ugly, or had she ever been seen 
in the air on a broom, must have convinced me 
that she was the exact person that had bewitched 
me. I continued in this state for some days after 
my sister's return home ; during which time, Miss 
Twist came often to see her in her carriage, and 
Emily Mandeville once on foot : I could plainly 
perceive, that though the latter did not at all mind 
coming on foot, the former was very proud indeed 
of coming in her carriage : but what was odd, even 
this difference between the two, as soon as I per- 
ceived it, brought on the bumping at my heart ; — 
Thinks- I-to~my self, Emily shall ride in her carriage 
too. 

h2 



100 THINKS-i-TO-MYSELF. 

I know not how long I might have remained in 
this miserable uncertain state, had it not been for 
the most unlooked-for accident, that ever befel one 
in my sad condition. One day that Miss Twist 
had dined with us, she and my sister, in the even- 
ing, were playing and singing at the piano-forte. 
They both sung extremely well, only Miss Twist 
was so abominably effected, I could not bear to 
look at her, while she sung, but stood at a distance 
generally, listening to the words. Music I de- 
lighted in ; — especially I found since the first at- 
tack of my bumping — there were some tunes so ex- 
quisitely soothing and delightful, I could scarce 
bear them ; — and some of the words of the songs 
seemed to me to touch my complaint : Miss Twist, 
I perceived, had a particular knack in fixing upon 
such songs : — at last there came one that complete- 
ly opened my poor dull eyes : the two first verses 
were sufficient, I had not made complete experi- 
ment of all, — but my eyes were opened, as I say : 
Thinks-I-to-myself, " that' s enough :" as I whis- 
pered to my sister to beg her to repeat it, I could 
not help marking every word the second time, and 
accompanying them with my usual soliloquies. 

li When Delia on the plain appears." 



THINKS-I TO-MYSELF. 101 

Sung Miss Twist :— Thinks- I-to-my self, when Emily 
Mandeville walks in the garden : — 

" Awed by a thousand lender fears, 

" I would approach, but dare not move." 

Thinks- I-to-my self, symptom !— the exact case to 
a hair ! — never was any thing more plain ! 

" Tell me, my heart, if this be Love t 

Yes, undoubtedly ! — Neither fever-, nor pleurisy, nor 
peripneumony , nor phrenitis, nor a diseased liver, but 
love ! downright love. — My eyes were opened, I 
say. 

As ill luck would have it, however, Miss Twist, I 
believe, thought her eyes were opened too. She had 
no questions to ask her heart about love, for I be- 
lieve she was perfectly incapable of that amiable 
passion, in any serious degree \. nothing, I am con- 
fident, would ever have made her heart bump as 
mine did ; but having been instructed and tutored 
at home, to lay siege to my expected Barony that 
was coming from the North, and having fully learnt 
to believe from Father, Mother, Governess, Nurse, 
&c. &c. &c. that there was nothing she could pur- 
chase with her riches half so valuable as a coronet 



102 THINKS-I-TOMYSELF. 

and supporters for her carriage, having the Twist 
arms in the full middle of all, as an heiress, she was 
interested in all the love-symptoms that could by 
any means be discovered in the heir-apparent of all 
these valuables, and therefore she thought it worth 
her while to make that malady her study, and as 
she could not fairly ask to feel my pulse, she could 
only judge at a distance as it were : — so she had 
made already almost as much of this one verse as I 
had : " When Delia on the plain appears," was to 
her, when Miss Twist comes in her carriage ; — 
" Awed by a thousand tender fears, I would ap- 
proach," — she put, u He would approach ;" — that 
is, me, (me myself me) the clod-pole, "he would ap- 
proach, but dare not move." 
/~^~ I dont't wonder she was mistaken ; — for certainly 
I was " awed" though not by " tender fears :" — I 
was afraid of her ologies, and heap of vain accom- 
plishments : and though I certainly did not wish to 
approach her, yet as I certainly did not approach her 
so much as she wished and expected, it was a fair 
conjecture to think I would, but could not, and that 
I dared not move, and so take it altogether, no won- 
der her pride and prepossessions plainly told her, 
that this was love ; — love in me towards her own 
sweet person ; — she therefore made sure of her game : 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 103 

the song being asked for again, convinced her that 
it was by way of enabling her to discover the pre- 
cious secret ; so that she felt quite assured of being 
her Ladyship already, and wondered what could 
make the old people in the North live so long : my 
father and mother also, I apprehend, she wished 
somewhat older, though perhaps she would have 
allowed the latter a little respite as a Dowager. 
/ I thought, however, I had made two discoveries 
from this song : — the third stanza pleased me as 
much as any ; — for by applying it to Emily Mande- 
ville, I began to flatter myself I had discovered a 
reason for her turning away, when her mother and 
I were talking so much about the ball at Nicotium 
Castle, and the accomplishments of Miss Twist. 

" If she some other youth commend." 

Thinks-I-to-myself, why not — " If he some other 
maid commend V 9 " Though I was once his fondest 
friend ;" " Why not," says I, " her fondest friend V- 
— " His instant enemy I prove ;" — u Why not," 
says I, " her enemy ?" and so on : — surely, Thinks- 
I-to-myself, — symptoms again : — my heart bumped 
more than ever, but it was become quite a pleasant 
sensation ; — I had quite given up all thoughts of 
asking the apothecary about it ;— I meant hence- 



104 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

forward to ask nobody about it, but Dr. Emily Man- 
deville. 

[I had not time yet to think the least in the world 
about Miss Twist's disappointment ; — yideed I could 
not care a halfpenny about it ; — for, Tkinks-I-to- 
myself, love won't kill her, and there are coronets 
enough to be had for money ; who knows but she 
may buy an Earl or a Duke; — but poor Emily 
Mandeville can't buy even a Baron; and thus I ran 
©n whenever my thoughts took that turn : — how- 
ever, I could not help now beginning to make com- 
parisons between the heiress of Nicotium Castle, 
and the meek-eyed maiden of the Vicarage. — 
Thinks- I-to -myself, what's all her Chemistry and 
Geology, and French and Italian, to the plain sense 
and rational understanding of Emily Mandeville ? 
What are all the airs and graces, and conceit and 
affectation of the haughty Miss Twist, to the artless 
simplicity and unassuming innoeence of the Vicar's 
daughter? She may ride in her coach, and have 
necklaces and bracelets of the choicest jewellery, 
she may sing like a Catalani, or dance like a Doga- 
Icuri, but I want not to pass my life amidst diamonds 
and rubies ; I want something better to associate 
with than the puppets of an Opera House. 

But there was one circumstance with regard to 



TRINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 105 

the Twists that had a great tendency to set me 
against them : — they seemed to me to have no 
sense of religion; — their pew at church was gene- 
• rally empty, or if they chanced to come there, they 
were too late, or there was such a talking in their 
pew, or they seemed none of them to have any 
books, or they knew nothing of the sermon after- 
wards, or something or other happened to convince 
me, that they had not any of them any proper sense 
of religion at all ; — Church was a bore to Miss 
Twist ; — Mr. Mandeville's sermons were shockingly 
long; — her papa always took a novel in his pocket, 
and Mrs. Twist w r ished she was close to the parson 
with a spur, to urge him on a little quicker : now I 
shall make no scruple to say, I had ever a propensity 
to hold such sort of people in absolute contempt 
and abhorrence ; — my father and mother had each 
of them a just sense of religion ; — they were Chris- 
tians, not in form only, but at heart ; — they never 
disputed about it, or made a parade of it,, but any 
thing that in the least offended against the sacred- 
ness of place, person, or thing, connected with reli- 
gion, excited their displeasure ; — so that I was bred 
up from a child to entertain a reverence for whatever 
belonged to it ; and it is no wonder that this should 
have led me to look more narrowly into these mat- 



106 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

ters, and make it no subordinate object of my 
studies.— I was fond of books always. — I had been 
admirably instructed : — Mrs. Fidget thought me a 
clod-pole because I could not talk in the way she did, 
but while she talked without thinking, /thought with- 
out talking; — I would not be so uncivil to Mrs. Fid- 
get, as to insist upon it without farther argument, 
that I- had the advantage, but it appeared to me, I 
must confess, that I was no clod-pole for what I did. 
I never shall regret the want of language that may 
have excited Mrs. Fidget's spleen ; — want of thought 
would have given me more concern : — but to return 
to what I was discoursing upon. — 

Bred up as I had been, it may easily be sup- 
posed, Mr. Mandeville's house and manners, and 
way of going on, were more congenial to my feel- 
ings, than the empty glare and glitter of Nicotium 
Castle : — at Mr. Mandeville's every thing was re- 
gular, comfortable, and consistent ; one could have 
stepped at any time out of his house into the other 
world without confusion, but at Nicotium Castle, 
nothing was regular, nothing comfortable, nothing- 
natural ; — all artificial, and as for stepping out of 
that gawdy Castle into the other world, it was quite 
horrible and shocking to think of it. Thinks-I-to- 
mi/self,— (often,) What will the angels say to thee, 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 107 

Mr. Twist, when thou appearest at the gate of 
heaven? Alas! Thinks- I-to -myself, surely I know: 
— " Thou in thy life-time reeeivedst thy good things, 
likewise Lazarus evil things:" — I had not so little 
charity as to be ever able to proceed ; for after all, 
the melancholy thing was, — Mr. Twist knew nothing 
about the other world ! — he knew much more of the 
Sporting Calendar than of the Bible. He thought, 
probably, (if he ever thought at all upon the subject) 
that there was a regular Nicotium Castle prepared 
for him among the many mansions we read of in the 
Book of God; — and that if there were anything 
that might not come to him in the way of inheri- 
tance, merit, or grace, money could purchase it. 

I am afraid I have fallen deep into a digression : 
well then, gentle reader, if you don't like this di- 
gression, burn all the rest of the book, but don't 
touch the digression itself :— give it me back again ; 
— I value it ; — I don't care what you like or dislike, 
— upon that particular topic, I will speak my mind: 
—If I am to be a Clod-pole, let me for God's sake, 
be at least a religious one. 

My worthy, good, and kind mother, thought the 
ball at Nicotium Castle was too pointed, not to ren- 
der it strictly incumbent on her, to give a ball at 
Grumblethorpe Hall; at which, good soul, I make 



108 THINKS-l-TO-MYSELF. 

no manner of doubt, she looked forward, with feel- 
ings something like those of Mrs. Twist, (only not 
so vulgar,) to the pleasure of seeing Miss Twist 
and me dance together. She spoke of it to my 
father, and as he thought it quite right, to be sure 
it must be done directly; — for the only thing in 
which I think my poor mother might be vulgar and 
unfashionable, was that of having a perfect defer- 
ence to the opinion of my father, — so much so, that 
I have often thought she really loved him : — but 
what made a great puzzle and combustion among 
us sometimes was, that my father had just as great 
a deference for my mother, so that if by any un- 
toward accident, any project, business, or engage- 
ment hung upon a balance between them, it was 
almost impossible that it should ever get settled ; — 
each insisting so strenuously not to have it their own 
icay, that I am confident, that had it been left to 
them to settle the planetary system, and the dis- 
pute had been about the right and left course of the 
orbits, that glorious luminary, the sun, might have 
stood still for ever, without a single body to revolve 
around him. 

Well, the ball was of course determined upon, 
and the day fixed : and in two days after the de- 
termination, a pack of printed cards having been 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 109 

procured, numberless invitations were written, many 
of them by Clod-pole himself, but here a great 
difficulty arose ; — my sister wished all the Mande- 
villes to be invited, and to have beds at the hall ; 
my mother assured her they were not of the party at 
Nicotium Castle ; " not," says she, " that I think 
them unworthy of having been there, for on the 
contrary, I think it would have been better had 
Mrs. Twist invited them, but only now they will 
not expect to be invited ; — but I will see what your 
father says :" I said nothing, and I thought nothing! 
for I was, as it were, flabbergasted; — what that 
means, I don't know, but having heard it used 
upon occasion by very elegant people, I adopt it, 
as it seems to me, to mean something very applica- 
ble to my feelings. 

I shall cease to describe the bumpings I had at 
my heart, because I now understood them, and 
thought them quite natural. I confess, I felt anx- 
ious about my father's coming home, though nei- 
ther my mother, nor my sister, said a word about 
it : at last, however, he came ; — he had been out 
a riding with Mr. and Mrs. Twist, of all the people 
in the world, so that I augured rather unfavour- 
ably as to the issue of the business : — he was not 
long returned before he came into my mother's 



110 THItfKS-I-TO MYSELF. 

room: Thinks- I-to-my self, I wish I was dead and 
buried. I expected them to begin upon it imme- 
diately; — but no such thing: — the deuce of a word 
was uttered either about the Twists or the Mande- 
villes, for a full quarter of an hour at least : — at 
last, my sister began; — says she, "Papa, don't 
you mean that the Mandevilles shall be invited to 
the Ball?" 

Just at this moment, the servant entered, and my 
father was called out of the room; — I could have 
freely knocked the fellow on the head ; — Thinks- 1- 
to-mysclf, he did it on purpose : — however, the 
business was not urgent, and my father came back 
again ; — says my sister, as before, " Papa, don't 
you mean to have the Mandevilles invited to the 
Ball? 1 ' "Who are invited?" says my father. 
" Every body," says my mother, H that was at Nico- 
tium Castle;" — u the Mandevilles were there," says 
my father hastily ! — " no, not one of them," says my 

mother: — " then," says my father, " it's a d n'd 

shame ! !" — My mother, and my sister, and myself, 
all slunk back ; — such an expression from such a 
mouth bespoke an earnestness we were unaccus- 
tomed to ! — says my father, ** Are you sure they 
were none of them there?" — "Indeed," says my 
mother, " they were none of them invited ;"— 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. Ill 

"then," says my father, send to them directly, 
an4 tell 'em, we have beds for them all, and tell 
'em we'll send the carriage for them, and tell 'em 
to bring my favourite young Tom, and tell 'em 
they had better come to dinner that they may be 
in time ;" — so saying, he quitted the room, and 
banged the door after him, as much as to say, 
f< I'm almost in a passion :" — my mother said not 
a w r ord, but went and got some paper ; — says she, 
" don't send a car d> it's too formal; here write 
what your father said," holding out a sheet of pa- 
per ; — my sister gladly took the pen,, and scribbled 
away the full amount of my father's liberal invita- 
tion ; — I wished very much to be the messenger to 
\ carry the note to the Vicarage, but I could not 
muster up quite courage enough to propose it ; — 
so it was sent in a common way. 
■ My mother was particularly anxious not to be at 
any extraordinary expence about the Ball, though 
my sister had heard a great deal about the splen- 
dor of that at Nicotium Castle, and wished of 
course, that our's should be as grand; lam not 
sure but she had some bumpings at the heart about 
it, she seemed so earnest; — but my mother took 
pains to convince her, that extravagance was no 
real mark of gentility-; — that it was better to ap- 






112 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

pear to want some things that might have been 
procured, than to go much out of the way to pro- 
cure things that might reasonably be dispensed 
with; — says she, "my dear, the Twists sent for 
every thing from London ; — surely it is better to 
have it supposed that we need send for nothing f* } 

It may easily be imagined that 'till the day came, 
not much else was thought of; — it was amusement 
to my mother and sister, it had much in it to pro- 
duce my dumpings at heart, and as for my father, 
he waited patiently for it, I believe, without giving 
himself a moment's concern about the business. 
Though I had not ventured to ask to carry the 
note to the Vicarage, I could not help going there 
soon after, over Twist stile and all : — when I got 
there, I said, "I hoped we should see them;" — for 
they did not immediately answer the note, not 
knowing how to arrange about the dining and 
sleeping, 8cc. ; — says I, " I hope you will all come," 
and, Thinks- I-to-myself I hope my dear Emily 
will dance with me, but as for uttering it, I might 
as well have been born dumb : — it passed in my 
mind freely enough, to and fro, upwards and down- 
wards — but out of my mind, not a hair's breadth : — 
I looked and sighed, and like Alexander the Great, 
" sighed and looked again." — *' Pray," says Emily, 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 113 

94 Do the Twists dine and sleep there ?" says I, 
" O no, God forbid !" — I was afraid I had spoken 
too hastily, but I took particular notice that she 
looked uncommonly happy : — I took my leave soon 
after, and returned home. 

At length the day of days came. The carpet 
was taken up in the drawing-room, and the floor all 
chalked in fine coloured figures and compartments. 
All the Mandevilles came to dinner, but it was ra- 
ther bustle and confusion, for the dining-room was 
to be the supper-room, and so, soon wanted: — how- 
ever, I was much pleased with some conversation 
that took place between my father and Mr. Man- 
deville after dinner. 

" I wish, Mr. Mandeville/' says my father, 
" every body would bring up their family, as you 
bring up your's." 

" I don't know, Sir/' says Mr. Mandeville, " I 
bring them up to learn all that I thijik really ne- 
cessary^ and all that is in my power to teach 
them/' 

" Thafs just what 1 like," says my father; 
« Why should our children be made so much wiser 
than ourselves ? — Why should it be thought neces- 
sary that because there happen now to be a profu- 
sion of teachers, in all branches of knowledge* 

i 



1 14 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

every thing that is to be taught, must be 
learnt? — Why am I to be bound to give guinea 
after guinea to have my daughter taught every 
thing that other people choose to learn, and merely 
on that account, without the least regard to her na- 
tural genius, taste, or capacity ; and when I am 
perfectly assured that more than half of what she 
so learns can be of no benefit to her husband, or 
her children, or her children's children, and can 
only be acquired by a profligate waste and expence 
of that time, which not only might be bestowed on 
studies of real importance, but on such as must 
tend to the use, and benefit, and delight of all con- 
nected with her? — there's our neighbour Miss 
Twist, — to be sure she knows, in some way or 
other, abundance of things ; — she is, what the world 
calls, highly accomplished ; — nor am I disposed to 
blame her parents for any care or cost they have 
bestowed on her, — but the effect of it is, in many 
cases, absurd and preposterous, — if it tends to set 
off the daughter, it tends as much to degrade the 
parents; for it is self-evident, that neither Mr. nor 
Mrs. Twist have sufficient knowledge of half the 
things their daughter hath been taught, to be able 
to judge of her progress and acquirements; — it is 
fifty to one but that in merely talking of them, 



TH1NKS-I-TOMYSELF. 115 

they continually expose themselves by their igno- 
rance and blunders, and what is worse than all, 
their daughter must know that they do so if she 
know any thing as she should do : — now your 
daughters, Mr. Mandeville, learn of you and Mrs. 
Mandeville, nothing but what is, and ever will be, 
essential, useful, proper, and becoming ; — and learn- 
ing it of you and you only, they never can come to 
look down upon you ; they must look up to you, 
as children should do, with respect and reverence, 
and esteem ; and the utmost of their aspiring must 
be, to be as wise and as good as yourselves ; — be- 
sides, Mr. Mandeville, as to the great and only 
knowledge, that is of real importance to us all, you 
must know better than me, that it is almost the 
only kind of learning they never take much pains 
to acquire : — I don't suppose any of your learned 
profession were ever called upon by father, mother, 
or guardian, to teach their son, or daughter, or 
ward, Divinity, — that is, I mean Christianity ; 
and yet a few guineas so bestowed, might, per- 
haps, go as far to help their appearance in the 
other world, as many guineas in this, — aye, and 
benefit some fellow-creature, possibly, of more 
worth, than fifty fiddlers or dancing-masters. 
f I wish, Mr. Mandeville, you could get the 
i 2 



1 16 TH1NKS-I-TQ-MYSELF. 

Twists to attend church a little oftener : — I hate to 
see their pew empty almost every sabbath day ; it 
is quite a pity : — Twist is a good-natured rattle, 
and as for Mrs. Twist, I am confidei^t, that if any 
body could ever once convince her, that there were 
one or two accomplishments wanting to set her 
daughter off to advantage, (for that is the great -ob- 
ject of all mothers, now-a-days,) in another world 
besides this, which I fear has never once entered 
Mrs. Twist's head ; I am persuaded, I say, that 
she would not neglect to enquire after some teacher 
or other, who might render her not deficient, in the 
courts above." 

Mr. Mandeville was preparing to reply, when a 
solemn message w T as brought from the upper house, 
which was privately delivered to my father : — 
Thinks- I-to-myself, a motion to adjourn, — and so 
it turned out, — for the Speaker immediately quit- 
ted the chair, and after asking Mr. Mandeville if 
he would drink any more wine, he publicly an- 
nounced the summons he had had to the drawing- 
room, and we prepared to follow him. 
^_ When we went up stairs, the room was almost 
full. My father, of course, went boldly into the 
middle of them all : Mr. Mandeville and myself 
remained near the door. I cast my eyes round 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 117 

and round, and round again, before I could fairly 
discern what I most wished to see ;< — at length, I 
espied, on one side of the room, behind a number 
that were standing up, Mrs. and the three Miss 
Mandevilles sitting close together, like a hen and 
so many chickens : — I felt an irresistible desire to go 
to them, but though there was a near way of 
doing it, I found, upon attempting it, I could not 
stir; — I feltjustasifmy right leg wanted to go, but 
my left leg pulled it back; — Thinks-Lto-myself r 
" I would approach but dare not move;" "Tell me 
my heart," &c. At length a fresh party arrived, 
and we were fairly pushed further into the room : 
—I then did sedulously endeavour to keep in that 
direction, and as Mr. Mandeville seemed to have no 
other object as w r ell as myself, we gradually got 
nearer and nearer, though continually interrupted 
of course by the greetings and salutes of divers 
persons and parties whom we passed. Nothing 
ran in my head but the being in time to ask Emily 
to dance with me the two first dances, but as for 
hastening to her for this purpose, it was quite out 
of question; — my left leg still kept pulling me 
back, as I thought. 

Some preparations now bogan to be made for be- 
ginning the ball, and I felt suite sure that I should 



118 THJNKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

be too late to accomplish my end, when, as good luck 
would have it, Mr. Mandeville made a bold push to 
get at them, and I followed close in the rear : — the 
point now seemed to me to be accomplished : — I 
had got close to Emily, and was just in the act of 
stooping to ask her to be my partner, (for human 
threadpapers you know are generally pretty tall,) 
when I received such a horrible pinch just on the 
tender part above the elbow of my right arm, that 
I had liked to have screamed aloud : Thinks-I-to- 
myself, spring-guns and steel-traps, as sure as I am 
born ! ! — It was my father in fact, who leaning over 
two benches, said in great haste, " Bob, come here, 
I have engaged you to Miss Twist ;" — being too 
confused to think or say any thing to myself, as 
customary, I mechanically answered, " I'll come 
directly, Sir," possibly, with an appearance of joy 
rather than sorrow, for these contradictions were 
among the symptoms of my complaint : — I was just 
going to say to Emily, " pray dance w r ith me the 
two next dances," but alas ! at that instant, a tall 
/ ^^ashing young man came up to her, and asked her 
to dance, and she assented, as I fancied, with peculiar 
satisfaction. 

I now had to find my father and Miss Twist, 
which I was not long 1 in doins>* ;— the music had 



TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 1 19 

began to play, and all was in a complete bustle. I 
found Miss Twist, standing before Mrs. Twist, who 
seemed to be looping up her gown, and making 
other preparation for dancing : — I went to her, put- 
ting on my gloves. " Miss Twist/' says I, " I 
believe I am to have the honour of dancino* with 
you :" — she bobbed something at me, which I sup- 
pose she called a curtsey, and was soon ready to be 
led into the ranks ; — but here, fresh difficulties again 
ensued : — my mother had carefully invited all that 
she had met at Nicotktm Castle, but being much 
better known in the neighbourhood, and willing 
that none should be excluded, her invitations had 
extended upwards and downwards to many more : — 
at the lower extremity, besides the Mandevilles, 
there was another Clergyman's family, three young 
ladies who lived with an old aunt, just by, that never 
tvent out, and poor Miss Creepmouse, w T ho also sel- 
dom got such a holiday : — there were some young 
men, whose parents were worthy, but not over gen- 
teel, and a few officers from the barracks, particu- 
larly and respectably recommended to their notice ; 
— (Mrs. Twist had invited them all indiscriminate- 
ly) ; — at the upper extremity there were the addi- 
tions of Lord and Lady Charleville, the two Miss 
Charlevilles, a niece of Lord Charleville's, and his 



120 THINKS-I-TO-MYSEfcF. 

eldest son, a Lieutenant in the Guards; — there 
were Sir Henry and Lady Lydiard, their three 
daughters, and two sons; — there were besides, a 
Mr. Wentworth, and Lady Maria Wentworth, the 
sister of a Scotch Marquis, and their daughter, 
Miss Wentworth. Lord Charleville had thought 
it proper to engage my sister, and led her to the 
top of the room. 

Poor Miss Twist having begun her own ball, very 
much wished, I believe, to begin our's too ; — she 
sidled up close to my sister, and seemed evidently 
to wish to stand at least next to her ; — the order 
of precedency, I believe, had never yet been duly 
studied at Nicotium Castle : — I began to be frigh- 
tened, because at one time the Miss Charleville's, 
who were not what I call high-bred, but thorough- 
bred, seemed disposed to overlook her attempt to 
get above them, and to give way to her, which 
would have made her so conspicuously wrong, that 
I should have been quite distressed ; my sister 
managed to prevent it by gently retaining the Miss 
Charlevilles next to her, we were obliged to cast 
down two couple ;: — that brought us to the Miss 
Lydiards : — they were by no means so well inclined 
to part with their places; — they well knew that 
they must come next to the Honourables : — as they 



THINKS-I-TQ-MYSELF. 121 

hung together, we were here obliged to east down 
three couple more ; — and then came another hitch, 
for there stood Miss Wentworth, but the youngest 
Miss Lydiard, grasped so fast hold of her hand, 
just at the moment Miss Twist made iter last effort 
to insert herself among the grandees, that we were 
compelled to cast off one more couple, and did not 
therefore fairly get a place till we were the eighth 
couple from the top. 

/As I had nothing to do but to keep pace with 
her on the gentlemen's side of the party, I at length 
got my proper station opposite to her : — Tkinks-I- 
to-myself, — mortified! — as it manifestly proceeded 
from ignorance, I felt sorry for her, though it was 
well for her to gain such experience any how : Mrs. 
Twist feeling if possible more for her than she felt 
for herself, came up to her, and I overheard her 
whisper, — " they are the Honourable Miss Charle- 
ville's, and Sir Henry's daughters,, you know," and 
so on, — which I apprehend, gave her some comfort 
and consolation ; how much I cannot pretend to say. 
I The ball had now actually begun. I ventured to 
cast my eyes frequently down towards where the 
Miss Mandevilles stood, and every time it struck 
me, that Emily seemed particularly happy with her 
/ partner ;— how much I wished her to be walking in 



122 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

the garden at the Vicarage ! Thinks-1-to-myself, 
Fll never go there again :— as we drew near to the 
top, it struck me that whenever w r e set off, we 
should make a rattling like that of a team of horses 
with their loose harness returning from plough ; for 
Miss Twist had on her neck such a profusion of pen- 
dent ornaments, that it looked as if in dressing she 
had taken no other care but to avoid leaving one trin- 
ket behind ;— she had on first, an exceeding handsome 
pearl necklace ; then, suspended to one gold chain, 
a locket richly set in diamonds, in which appeared 
to be twisted and entwined, the respective ringlets 
of her honoured parents ; then suspended to another 
gold chain, an agate essence bottle set in gold, filled 
w r ith otto of roses ; — and besides that, though she 
was about as near-sighted as a lynx, suspended on 
a third gold chain, an eye-glass, surrounded with 
large pearls ; — how all these things were to be safely 
conveyed to the end of thirty or forty couple, ap- 
peared to me to be a mystery, and as it happened 
I was right, for we had scarcely got down three 
couple, before the gold mounted essence bottle fell 
foul of the pearl eye-glass, and broke it all to pieces ; 
— the glass itself was of course no loss, and as it 
drew the attention of all the company to the splen- 
dour of the setting, it had a most desirable effect : 



THINKS-l-TO-MYS£Ll\ 123 

Thinks-I-to-myself, that will be mended before the 
next ball, and perhaps the essence bottle will be 
left to dangle just as near to it as ever. 

As soon as this little interruption was settled, 
which brought up Mrs. Twist, and seemed to inte- 
rest her exceedingly, we w r ent on, turning and twist- 
ing generally so separated from each other, that I 
had little occasion to talk to her (and I was heartily 
glad of it) : — when we got to Miss Mandeville and 
her dashing partner, I had to set corners with her, 
and turn her : I had determined to give her a little 
gentle rebuke for her indifference, but when I 
touched her hand, my tongue cleaved to the roof 
of my mouth, and I could not utter a word : — I had 
the resolution, however, to swing her off with a re- 
markable air of unconcern, and I flattered myself 
that she seemed hurt ; Thbiks-I-to-myself, — affront- 
ed! when we had really got to the bottom, Miss 
Twist fanned herself, and breathed hard : I said, 
* tf it is very hot, but it was a pretty dance ;" — " too 
crow T ded ;"■ — and a number of other common-place 
ball remarks, which did very well, and were quite 
enough, I have a notion, to satisfy her that I was in 
love with her : — we danced down the second dance 
together, and then she bobbed a curtsey, and I 



124 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

bobbed a bow, like Mother Hubbard and he? Dog, 
and it was all very well settled. 

As I went tip to my sister directly afterwards, 1 
was amused with the different manner in which I 
found all the party came to ask her the same ques- 
tion : — of course, as in all other balls, there was a 
certain sprinkling of fine ladies, and quizzy gentle- 
men, as well as of quizzy ladies and fine gentlemen, 
so that the several partnerships were, as it might be, 
ill or well arranged ; — those that happened to be 
well mated, and to have found partners to their sa- 
tisfaction, came slow r ly up to my sister, and rather 
plaintively, and timidly addressed her, " Do we 
change partners, Miss Dermont ?" — but those who 
were ill-matched, and wanted to shake off a quizzy 
partner, came boldly up, " We change partners, 
don't we, Miss Dermont?" — I made many observa- 
tions of this nature, though nobody guessed what I 
was about : — I saw abundance of untoward circum- 
stances, though well-disguised, that convinced me, 
it might be very neighbourly, but was in reality the 
cruellest thing in the world, to make such a party.. 

During the two first dances, I was sorry to see 
poor Mrs. Fidget, who had two daughters in the 
room, quite unable to get a partner for either \ — 



XHINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 125 

they were, in truth, very cross-looking girls, and by 
no means popular in the neighbourhood : she came 
repeatedly behind me, during the dance, with Miss 
Matilda hanging upon her arm., complimented me 
about my dancing, and my good looks; — as I never 
had any malice in my disposition, I really should 
have been glad to have asked her daughter to 
dance, but while I had resolved in my own mind to 
die, rather than ask Emily Mandeville, yet I could 
not help wishing to keep myself disengaged, for fear 
I should die if I by any means put it out of my 
power to dance with her. 

All the Mandevilles were so pretty that they 
never wanted partners ; — beauty brings down pride 
as well as money, or any thing : — had there been 
fifty lords in the room, FU be bound Emily Mande- 
ville might have danced with them all : — I studiously 
avoided taking any notice of her, (though it occa- 
sioned horrible bumpings) and for the two second 
dances I engaged myself (by my mother's desire) to 
Miss Charleville. 

I w r as surprised to see with how much greater 
ease and civility she conducted herself all down the 
dance than had be£ii the case with Miss Twist ; — 
and having no dangling ornaments at all, we got 
safely and without interruption to the bottom:— 



126 THINKS-I-TOMYSELF. 

Thinks- I-to-my self, either Emily Mandeville or Miss 
Charleville, and I gave myself great credit for having 
the resolution to compare any-body with the former. 

It would be absurd to go more than necessary 
into the detail of the Ball, but before it was over, 
one or two things occurred which I cannot leave 
unnoticed : — when Miss Twist had regularly sur- 
mounted all the seven couple that originally stood 
above her, and seen them safely removed to the 
bottom of the set, and had herself fairly attained 
the summit, so that according to the etiquette of 
things, it was her turn to call the two next dances ; 
— lo ! and behold she had no partner ; I had been 
w T andering about the room, watching Emily and her 
partner, and had not attempted to engage myself, 
when my mother came up to me, and desired that I 
would by all means, if not engaged, go and ask 
Miss Twist ; — at the moment, I am confident, she 
had no thoughts of any thing but that of shewing 
a civility to her company : — had any other been in 
that situation, she would have done the same, but 
now the business was out ; — I had occasion to know 
afterwards, that divers shrewd persons among the 
kindest of her neighbours, had noticed the close 
siege she seemed to be laying to the Twist domains ; 
—-Mr. Robert Bermont, it seems, had danced twice 



THINKS-1-TO-MYSELF. 127 

with Miss Twist, but not once with either of the 
Miss Fidgets !— twice with Miss Twist, but not 
once with any of the four Miss Gogmagogs , — they 
might have added, twice with Miss Twist, and not 
once with either of the three Miss Mandevilles ; but 
had I danced but once with any of the latter, a dif- 
ferent sort of wonderment would no doubt have 
been excited, and perhaps still more degrading in- 
sinuations thrown out ; as it was, my mother's art- 
ful designs upon Nieotium Castle, were judged to be 
as evident and as capable of demonstration, as if 
the settlements had been signed and sealed : all 
this I found out afterwards :— what added consider- 
ably to these foul appearances was, that as ill luck 
would have it, the two dances called by Miss Twist 
were the two last before supper, so that I was 
doomed to have the additional felicity of handing 
( her to the supper-room, and sitting next to her at 
that awful solemnity ; — when every thing that is 
done, said, or seen, is sure to be taken strict ac- 
count of, and made the subject of conversation for 
the next half year. 

When supper was over, we returned to the Ball- 
room, where we continued dancing " till Phoebus 
'gan to rise :" — I still sedulously avoided all the 
Mandevilles : — I felt sure that Emily w r ould dream 



128 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

of nothing but her smart partners, and that she did 
not deserve another bump of my poor heart ; — be- 
fore it was all finished, however, she appeared to be 
indisposed, and therefore quite retired from the set ; 
— I had many doubts and misgivings whether I 
should condescend to go and ask her how she did : — 
Thinks- I-to-myself, she has been smitten at first 
sight by some of her dashing partners, and why 
should I not leave her to suffer ? 

While I was thinking all this, Mr. Mandeville 
came and shook me hastily by the hand, " Good 
night," says he, u Emily is not very well, and Lady 
Charleville has been so obliging as to insist upon 
her carriage taking us home :" — had I beeii shot 
through the heart I could not have felt more ! — the 
Ball was nearly over, and all my happiness had been 
frustrated : I went with him to the party, where I 
found them all cloaking up, being in haste not to 
keep Lady Charleville's ^carriage waiting. 

I offered Emily my arm, which she accepted. 
" I am sorry," says I, u you are not well ; I was in 
hopes it had been particularly pleasant to you, you 
had such a heap of smart partners ;" — " They were 
all strangers to me" she said in some haste : (( why 
you did not like them the worse for that, surely !" 
said I ; " Indeed,' 1 says she, " I should have liked 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSKLF. 129 

old friends and acquaintances better, and you don't 
know me, if you think otherwise:" — she had no sooner 
said it, than I fell into one of the most dreadful fits 
of bumping I ever felt : — I had only time to press 
her hand, and help her into the carriage, and when 
I returned into the ball-room, every thing looked 
stranger than I can describe ; I felt that all J cared 
for, was on the way to the Vicarage, and that I had 
fairly been making a fool of myself during the 
whole evening : — to mend matters, Mrs. Twist 
came up to me, and asked me how the Mandevilles 
were to get home, plainly insinuating that they had 
no carriage, but never offering her own i — " Ma'am," 
says I, " my father's carriage brought them here,, 
and would have conveyed them home, had not 
Lord and Lady Charleville been so good as to insist 
upon their taking their coach :"• — then Mrs. Twist, 
for the first time, began to say, they should have 
been welcome to her's ; but I knew better, 

The Bail at length ended ; every body went home 
to bed, and to sleep, except probably myself, who 
had the heart-bumping all night, besides pulses in 
my ears, and a hundred other love-sick affections. 

It was some time afterwards that it came into 
my head to take some account of this Ball, which 
my good father and mother had given solely with f 



130 THINKS-I-'ro-"MYSELI\ 

the view of contributing what they thought incum- 
bent on them to the amusement and happiness of 
their neighbours, but which, in fact, or at least, in 
all probability, turned out quite otherwise : — in the 
first place, by endeavouring to extend their invita- 
tions as far as they could, for the sake of pleasing 
as many as possible, they invited some to whom 
they were scarcely known ; this of course affronted 
many who were entirely strangers, but who con- 
ceived that they might as well have been asked as 
the others : — by endeavouring to mortify no persons 
who had any pretensions to be invited, though not 
in a rank of life to associate generally with the neigh- 
bourhood, they let loose upon them abundance of 
persons still lower, who judged themselves to be 
not only equal, but superior to those who w r ere in- 
vited. 

I cannot describe to you how low we might have 
gone, had we endeavoured to satisfy all these pre- 
judices and pretensions; — I am confident that in 
the course of things, the blacksmith's wife would 
have felt insulted to have been left out ; then as to 
the real pleasure and happiness afforded to those 
who came : — above half undoubtedly went away dis- 
satisfied ; some envying us things that they could 
not command at home ; some attributing all that 



THINKS-I-TO-MVSELi K 131 

they saw to the mere love of show and parade ;— 
there were some sorry their daughters had not found 
partners for every dance ; — some sorry they had 
\ been introduced to such low partners, quite beneath 
them ; — while, probably, those very partners thought 
they had condescended greatly to dance with them at 
all ; — Mrs. Twist was evidently j ealous of my mother's 
being able to get certain grand and titled visitors that 
were not to be seen at Nicotium Castle, while those 
titled visitors had a hard matter to assume even 
their proper places without offence ; some thought 
themselves neglected, some caught cold, some sat 
too low at the supper-table, some could have sung 
after supper if they had been asked, some were af- 
fronted because they were asked, in short, take it 
altogether, though nobody would have been absent, 
none were entirely satisfied with being present, and 
my poor father and mother were answerable for 
every thing. — Thinks-I-to-myself, — mighty sociable ! 
— delightful neighbourhood! — amiable people! 
( The next morning when I was in my mother's 
dressing-room with my father and herself, my fa- 
ther said, " Have you sent to enquire after Miss 
Mandeville?"— Says- I-to-my self, " I'll go;"— so I 

turned round abruptly to my mother, and as much 

f 
/ as could be, thought I was going to offer to go, but 

K 2 



132 THINKS-l-TO-MYSELF. 

a sudden overwhelming confusion came across me; 
and the words that really came out of my mouth 
were, " Shall I go and send Thomas ?" Not one of 
the three last words having been in my mind before ; 
I had merely intended to intimate that I would go 
and enquire after her myself: — Thinks- I-to-my self, 
such blunders as these can't be love ; — this must be 
peripneumony or phrenitis, and I had better take 
some more physic for it. 

Thomas was sent, and Thomas returned : — many 
thanks ; — Miss Mandeville was something; better : 
— something better, Thinks-I-to-myself, — Why can- 
not I go and nurse her, and sit up with her night 
and day ! — My father proposed a ride, and when 
we had mounted our horses, he further proposed 
riding directly to Nicotium Castle, to know how 
they were after their fatigue ; — I made no objection : 
— as we rode through the woods in our approach 
to the castle, my father threw out a thousand hints 
that I very well undersood, but beyond mere hints 
he did not venture to advance : — " It is the beauty 
of our constitution/' says he, " Bob, that though 
there may be said to be in it, a distinct aristocracy 
and democracy, yet means are provided for the con- 
tinual union and junction of these two branches ; — 
they are distinct in themselves, but yet, by a thou- 



THIN K3-1-TOMYS ELF. 133 

sand circumstances, they get mingled and blended 
together, to the evident advantage of both ; — as a 
commercial country, every branch of trade is so 
favoured, that the lowest person among us may by 
industry become as rich as the highest, and, by so 
doing, can raise his family to such a pitch of splen- 
dour and elegance, that they gradually and natu- 
rally slide into the stream of nobility ; while the 
nobility, w T ho have no such rapid means of repair- 
ing the wear and tear of their estates, and who are 
never excused from keeping up a certain degree of 
state and parade, are willing enough to assist in the 
elevation of their rich inferiors ; and thus, as I said 
before, provision seems to be made, by the very cir- 
cumstances of our excellent constitution, for the 
occasional amelioration of both branches, and the 
junction of the two extremes." 

After this curious diatribe on our admirable con- 
stitution, we rode for some time without exchanging 
a word ; — I knew what my father meant : — Thinks- 
I-to-myself " War begets poverty, poverty peace : 
peace makes riches flow, fate ne'er does cease, 
war begets poverty, poverty peace :" — tobacco 
is a bewitching drug : the trade in tobacco there- 
fore brings great riches^ riches naturally lead to 
great pretensions : therefore a tobacconist's grand- 
daughter is fit for a Peeress, — or, a Peer may 



HI* ■ 

134 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF, 

be poor; poverty may disable him from sup- 
porting his proper state and splendour; — without 
state and splendour, he is no better than a tobacco- 
nist ; — let the poor Peer then but marry the proud 
tobacconist, and all is properly settled. — " War be- 
gets poverty, poverty peace." 

As we approached the Castle, many remarks 
were made on the beauty of the situation, &c. &c, 
and some projects hinted as to the improvements 
that might be made, if both 4 ' estates were ever to come 
by any accident into the hands of one and the same 
individual! 

When we were shown up into the drawing-room, 
we found that none of the ball party had yet made 
their appearance ; — there was nobody to receive us 
but Miss Watson, the Governess ; — she was a very 
sensible worthy woman, the daughter of a deceased 
Clergyman ; we sat with her some time, before Mrs. 
and Miss Twist came to us ; upon their entrance, 
Miss Watson arose, and Mrs. Twist took her chair, 
Miss Twist at the same time seating herself without 
farther ceremony ; my father got up to set another 
chair for Miss Watson, but Mrs. Twist verv con- 
siderately interfered, and by a certain look and mo- 
tion with her head, directed the poor humble Gover- 
ness to retire. 

We did not stay long, as they had their break- 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELr. 135 

fast to take : Mrs. Twist said she meant to drive to 
the Hall to enquire after my mother, which we did 
not prevent : but after having received a thousand 
compliments about the extreme delight they had 
received at the ball, both from mother and daughter, 
took our leave. 

As we rode away from the Castle, my father said 
all of a sudden, " Poor Miss Watson !" Thinks-I- 
to-myself " Why poor Miss Watson ?" we rode on ; 
— not a word till we got near a quarter of a mile 
further : when my father could contain no longer. 
— " Did you see, Bob," says he, " how Mrs. Twist 
sent Miss Watson out of the room ? — Surely it is 
wrong to degrade a Governess in that manner, in 
the eyes of her pupil ! the tutor of any young man 
of fortune ox family may become Archbishop of 
Canterbury, and, why are the teachers of the other 
sex to be kept down below par, as they generally 
are ? What can be meant by it ? Is not the mere 
having a Governess for their daughters, a tacit con- 
fession, that the mothers themselves are not able to 
teach them ; and if so, is it not an even chance at 
least, that the Governess is far the most wise and 
deserving of the party ? as for the want of time, 
which is the excuse too generally made, time itself 
was intended only for such ends, and therefore so 



136 THINKS-I-TQ-MYSELF. 

far from this being a fair excuse, it is the very ex- 
cuse a mother ought not to dare to make." 

f 1 But/' continues he, " if hirelings of that de- 
scription must be employed, it should at least not be 
forgotten, what sort of hirelings they are ; — they 
are, in fact, hired Mothers; — Mothers 9 substitutes, 
deputies, representatives, and I fear too often better 
mothers than the principals ; I don't like such an 
appendage to a family in general, for where they are 
bad, they are the very worst of evils; but if we 
?nust have them, let us do them every justice they 
may deserve. Such are the changes and chances 
and revolutions of life, that it is often probable that 
a Governess may become dependent on a person 
naturally and originally far below her in the order 
of society, not to mention again the probability of 
far greater mental and intellectual endowments; 
how grating must it be to such a person to be not 
only treated as dependent by such mothers, but as 
inferior to them : — I confess, I wish the worthy 
among these substitutes had but their fair chance of 
becoming Archbishops, and then they might have 
their revenge." 

My poor father, when any thing touched his 
feelings, spoke out freely — he forgot all his former 
hints and inuendoes upon such occasions; I saw 



TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 137 

plainly that in his heart he could not bear the Tickts, 
in regard to some traits of their character. 

When we got home, we found that many persons 
had been there to enquire after my mother ; — every 
one, without exception, telling her, it was the plea" 
sunt est evening they ever spent. 

I am now coming to a remarkable period in my 
life, though I shall skip over most of the particulars. 
My father had long thought of sending me ta a 
Scotch University : — he much approved of Edin- 
burgh particularly, and he thought as I was one 
day or other to be a Scotch Peer, it might be con- 
ducive to my interest to send me thither : — of course, 
this greatly interrupted all the proceedings at Nico- 
tium Castle and the Vicarage, and a long suspence 
ensued both of my hatred and my love. 
1 The day being fixed, I took leave of several of 
my neighbours, as I thought it became me, the 
Vicarage being the first and the last place I w r ent 
to for this purpose ; for indeed I could not help 
twice taking leave of that amiable and worthy 
family, and I saw so much reason to be satisfied 
that my approaching absence was really a matter of 
regret to them all, that I can scarcely say, when I 
quitted them, whether my heart was most heavy, 
or most light, it seemed weighed down with grief 



138 TH1NKS-1-TO-MYSELF. 

because I was going from them, yet elevated to a 
pitch of extreme joy by the manner in which my 
departure seemed to be felt : Thiiiks-I-io- myself, as 
I quitted the door for the last time, — 

14 The benediction of these cov'ring heav'ns 

Fall on their heads like dew, for they are worthy 
To in-lay Heaven with Stars !" 

i" 

Every thing having been duly prepared for my 
journey, the day at last came for my leaving Grum- 
blethorpe for a longer period than had ever been 
the case before. My mother and my sister were 
very much depressed upon the occasion, though 
they did all they could to conceal it, and as every 
thing that they felt, my father felt also, it was a 
dismal morning altogether. There was much real 
and genuine grief indeed felt by us all, so that there 
was no room for the affectation of it. 

At Stamford, I was to be joined by my old tutor, 
who had been absent from Grumblethorpe for above 
a year and a half: — he was to accompany me into 
Scotland : — a trusty servant attended upon me, who 
was to wait upon us both during our sojournment 
at Edinburgh : — I need not describe the last par- 
ting; those who have any feeling will know the 
precise circumstances of it ; those that have none 
would not believe me if I described it ever so 



THlNKS-1-TG-MYSKLf . 139 

faithfully. — The carriage at last drove from the 
£ate, and I bestowed a secret valediction and bless- 
ing, as I passed, on every tree and every path, and 
every gate and paling ; the sheep, and the geese, 
and the turkeys ; and, for the moment, could fairly 
have envied them all their dull privilege of staying 
where they were. 

I need not carry the reader along with me from 
stage to stage, during my long journey ; suffice it 
to say, that at Stamford I met my worthy tutor Mr. 
Hargrave, and whom it was a great satisfaction to 
me to join: — he proposed going westward into 
Scotland, and taking the Lakes in our way, which 
would also give me an opportunity of seeing Glas- 
gow, and other parts of Scotland, with ease, before 
I took up my abode at Edinburgh i — from Stam- 
ford, therefore, we proceeded through Nottingham- 
shire and Derbyshire, entering Yorkshire at Shef- 
field ; Mr. Hargrave was extremely careful to carry 
me to all the manufactories that we passed upon* 
our road, and I confess I was highly amused : — he 
took care that I should not observe these things in 
a careless cursory manner ; he explained to me, be- 
fore I saw any of them, the immense advantages ta 
be gained by the division of labour, which made 
me take the greater interest in examining the gra- 



140 TH1NK3-I-TO-MYSELF. 

dual progress of the several productions of art 
which came in our way, from the first rude mate- 
rial to the utmost state of perfection in which it 
was sent out of the hands of the manufacturer; he 
made me acquainted with the natural properties 
and qualities of the rude materials themselves, 
whether mineral or vegetable ; he made me notice 
what manufactures were entirely dependent on the 
products of our own country, and what required 
the further aid and assistance of foreign and im- 
ported commodities : — by these means, I insensibly 
gained a knowledge of more than can easily be 
supposed, by any person who has not had the ad- 
vantage of such a companion in their travels ; — I 
became interested, before I was aware of the ends 
he had in view, in the study of Mineralogy, Che- 
mistry, Botany ; — in things relating to the Trade, 
Manufactures, and Commerce of the state ; — nay, of 
the whole world. 

Mr. Hargrave had a happy talent of placing 
every object that drew my attention, in various and 
distinct points of view, so that I might learn from 
it all that could possibly be said upon the subject. 
The china at Derby, and the cutlery goods at Shef- 
field, led him equally to expatiate upon all the 
several branches of knowledge I have enumerated ; 



THXNKS-1-TO-MYSELF. HI 

— he would not only explain what different species of 
earths had been used in the several manufactures 
of china ware, but he would give me a general 
idea of the classification of minerals ; — shew me 
what rank the earths held among them, how many 
different sorts had been discovered ; — what were 
their distinct natural properties ; — what the general 
effects of their mixture and combination; — he 
would not only make me observe how they coloured 
the pieces, but he would explain how those colours 
[ were prepared ; — what were derived from the mine- 
ral, and what from the vegetable kingdom; — 
what were prepared at home, what foreign materials 
entered into their composition. 

Not content with this, he would often give me 
the exact natural historv of distinct minerals : ex- 
plain to me from what countries they came, how 
they w T ere procured, what connections we had with 
those countries, how the trade between us was con- 
ducted and carried on ; — he would sometimes enter 
into the particulars of the geographical and politi- 
cal circumstances of these countries; — how situa- 
ted ;— under what climate ; — how governed ; — and 
from hence perhaps take occasion to converse upon 
the different forms of governments that were known 
to subsist;— he would tell me, what other manu- 



142 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

factures of the same kind existed in other parts, 
foreign and domestic;— the comparative estimation 
in which they were severally held ; — which were 
still in repute ; — which had fallen into decay ;— 
he would remark upon the prices of labour, as re- 
gulated by the price of provisions, scarcity or 
abundance of hands; — capital necessary for carry- 
ing on such works; — wholesomeness or unwhole- 
someness of different manufactures; — nature of the 
complaints produced by them : — in short, it was 
perfectly incredible to what an extent he would 
cany his observations in order constantly to keep 
my mind awake to that marvellous concatenation 
of circumstances by which all the several branches 
of knowledge might be said to bear upon one 
point ; — a Derby tea-cup was at any time sufficient 
to lead us far into Mineralogy, Botany, Chemistry, 
Natural History, History, Trade, Commerce, Eco- 
nomics, Politics, Geography, Navigation, and I 
know not what besides; — and though this may 
appear to some rather a desultry mode of instruc- 
tion, I am confident it had the effect of more tho- 
roughly expanding my mind, and enabling it to 
comprehend at one view, a multiplicity of objects, 
not confusedly, but by a regular concatention of 
particulars, and general association of ideas. 



TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 143 

From Sheffield, we proceded by Barnsley, 
Wakefield, Leeds, Ripon, into Westmoreland. 
In most of these towns the clothing business excited 
our attention, and engaged us in very different 
studies from those suggested to us by the China 
and Hardware manufactories, but still with equal 
advantage : — all nature animate and inanimate 
seemed to be brought before me ; — I could not put 
my foot to the ground any longer with the indiffer- 
ence I used to do : — every clod of earth, and every 
\ weed I trod upon, appeared to have some history 
belonging to it ; it seemed scarcely credible that I 
could heretofore have passed so carelessly over objects 
so replete w T ith wonder, so curious, so useful, and 
of such infinite and inexhaustible varieties. 

; Prom Ripon, we visited Studley, Hackfall, and 
Fountain's Abbey. These were objects of a totally 
different nature, and yet Mr. Hargrave found 
means to expatiate upon them as largely as he had 
treated of the manufactories. From our visit to 
Fountain's Abbey, I imbibed a taste for the 
study of Antiquities ; — he made me acquainted 
with the different styles of Architecture that had 
severally prevailed in various parts of the world ;— 
described to me particularly, the different proper- 
ties and supposed beauties of the Gothic, and 



144 THINKS-I-TQ-MYSELF. 

gave me a circumstantial account of it's history ; 
— he entered deeply also into the particulars of the 
Monastic institutions, to which we owe so many of 
our finest ruins, and from thence would take occa- 
sion to compare the manners of former times with 
our own, observing as he went along, upon the 
superior advantages we enjoyed from the vast ac- 
quisition of knowledge since the reformation of 
Religion, the discovery of the art of Printing, the 
encouragement given to learning, and the great 
accumulation of valuable discoveries by means of 
experimental philosophy. 

Thus did we pass our time^till we arrived at the 
Lakes, where my mind at first seemed to be fully 
absorbed in the beauties of the scenery. Nothing 
could exceed my delight and surprise upon my 
first arrival at that most interesting part of the 
kingdom. Not content with skirting the different 
lakes, or visiting select points, I ascended all the 
mountains, visited every precipice, viewed every 
cataract from above and below, explored every 
valley, landed upon every island; — I saw every 
lake under every circumstance that was possible, 
by day and by night, at sun-set and at sun-rise, 
at dawn and at twilight, in the serenity of calms, 
and the turbulence of storms;— I was so struck 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 145 

and fascinated with the delicious scenery, so differ- 
ent from the southern parts of England, that I 
could scarcely be brought to sleep a whole night 
in my bed ; — often would I get up by moon-light, 
and repair to the edge of the lake, to observe the 
peculiar tints occasioned by the radiance of that 
luminary, or if the wind blew strong, or the thun- 
der roared aloud, nothing could keep me in my 
, bed ; for, notwithstanding the insinuations of Mrs. 
Fidget, I am apt to hope, that poor Clodpole 
" was no vulgar boy." His picture, I think, is 
well enough drawn in the following lines : — 

il In truth he was a strange and wayward wight, 
Fond of each gentle, and each dreadful scene ; 
In darkness, and in storing he found delight, 
Nor less, than when on ocean-wave serene 
The southern sun diffused his dazzling shene, 
E'en sad vicissitudes amused his sou!} 
And if a sigh would sometimes intervene, 
And down his cheek a tear of pity roll, 
A sigh, a tear, so sweet, he wish' d not to control." 

For it must not be supposed that I thought of 
nobody but myself in these romantic indulgences : 
— continually did my thoughts hurry me back to 
the happy mansion of my beloved father : — often 
did I wish my poor mother and sister could know 

L 



146 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

how much amusement I had found on my journey ; 
— often did a tender recollection of Emily Mande- 
ville steal across me, and give a check to the trans- 
ports of my soul; — often have I thought as I 
gazed upon the moon, that she must be, probably 
shining in like manner, on those so dear to me at a 
distance, and that perhaps even the eyes of some of 
them might be fixed on her at that very moment. 
As often as these ideas came across me, my old 
complaint returned ; — my heart beat quicker, my 
breast heaved, till a sigh or a tear, or a successioa 
of both, eame to my relief- 
Mr. Hargrave seeing the delight I took in the 
peculiar nature of the scenery of these parts, 
indulged me with a longer stay there than he had 
at first intended : — he was himself, indeed, little 
less interested than I was, and would frequently 
visit the lake at untimely hours. In one of our 
night excursions, we passed many hours in a boat 
near one of the islands (I think they call it the 
Hermit's island) in Keswick Lake ; — the night was 
calm and serene ; — the moon shone beautifully, — 
reflected from the surface o( the lake in a long 
glittering stream of light, — gently agitated through 
its entire length by the undulations of a most re- 
freshing and delightful breeze : — the fall of Lowdore 



THIN KS-I-TO-MYS ELF. 147 

was to be heard at a distance, dashing down its 
rugged channel* At the extremity of the boat we 
had placed a small cannon, which in the very depth 
of night we ordered to be discharged, that we might 
enjoy in full perfection, the reverberation of the 
sound from the surrounding rocks and mountains. 
The effect was exceedingly striking and grand, 
varied probably by the different features of the 
several objects, from which the sound w r as returned 
upon our ears ; — first, perhaps, in an abrupt and 
sudden crash : — then in a long and distant mur- 
mur : — then in a loud roar, as it were nearer to us ; 
—as it was successively re-echoed from the dif- 
ferent mountains, we could regularly count seven 
distinct thunder-strokes, as produced by each dis- 
charge: — the deep shadow cast by Skiddaw over 
a part of the scenery to the north-east, added much 
to the beauty of the landscape. 

The time at length came, however, for our quit- 
ting this delicious spot, much to my regret and 
concern. The reader will easily guess how 7 much 
mental soliloquy, I had occasion to indulge, as I 
passed over these charming scenes. How often I 
must have Thought-to-mi/.seff, that in this island, 
or this valley, or on the side, or at the foot of this 
or that mountain, or at the point of this or that 

l2 



148 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

promontory, hid for ever from the world by the 
deep shade of plantains, or of sycamores, I could 
delight to pass the rest of my life, with the inno- 
cent unassuming Emily: — the reader will easily 
guess how many romantic spots I fixed upon for 
this purpose; — how frequently I exulted in the 
thought of boldly preferring such a retirement, (if 
any obstacles to our union should occur), to all 
the glare and glitter and false pride of Nicotium 
Castle ; — but it was time for us to go. 1 believe 
Mr. Hargrave himself began to suspect that if I 
staid much longer, I should inevitably become 
either a fool or a poet : — so at last he rather hurried 
me away. 

We took our leave of the lakes at Ullswater, 
proceeding by Penrith to Carlisle, and from thence 
by the celebrated Gretna Green, to Glasgow : — we 
stopped of course to visit the falls of the Clyde in 
our way, and were highly delighted with them ; — 
many people, we are told, were curious to see the 
officiating minister of the Gretna Chapel, but we 
passed on without this gratification. — I questioned 
Mr. Hargrave about him, but he cut me short, by 
saying, " We are all upon a par, in regard to that 
ceremony : — probably in the course of the year, he 
does just as much good as harm, and just as much 



TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 149 

harm as good ; which, for what I know, is the case 
with us all ; — licit or illicit, equal or unequal, public 
or private, given or stolen, find me the minister that 
can make all couples happy, and I will go far out 
of my way to see him ." Thinks-I-to-myself, — my 
tutor is probably right. 

In our way through Moffat, we were much enter- 
tained by the arrival of a large drove of cattle, late 
in the evening, attended by many drovers with their 
bag-pipes. This unexpected influx of national mu- 
sic, seemed to raise the spirits of the inhabitants: — 
many parties assembled to dance to the sound of 
these strange but favourite instruments, and more 
than half of the night was expended before the sound 
of them ceased to disturb our rest : — though dis- 
turbed however, the novelty and nationality of it, 
inclined us freely to forgive them. In consequence 
of letters Mr. Hargrave received at Moffat, and owing 
to our long stay at the Lakes, w r e were obliged to 
hurry through Glasgow, and make the best of our 
way to Edinburgh, where we arrived safely after 
rather a long but pleasant journey. 

It is particularly my design to pass over almost 
every thing that occurred during our residence 
here, as not necessary to the history I have under- 
taken. We received great civilities from many 



150 THINKS-1-TO-MYSELF. 

eminent persons and distinguished families, in and 
out of Edinburgh, my letters of introduction being 
many, and my connections well known. We tra- 
velled further into Scotland as opportunity occur- 
red, and the vacations admitted. We visited 
Aberdeen, and some of the northern lakes : — the 
Highlands also, some of the Western Isles, and par- 
ticularly Staffa, with which I was delighted, as so 
extraordinary and grand a specimen of that singu- 
lar natural production, the Basaltic pillar. — None 
of these things do I attempt to describe here; — 
it is necessary just to touch upon them, because, 
Thinks-I-to-myself, how shall I otherwise get the 
reader to consent to skip over two years of my 
life?— 

In the correspondence that passed between my 
family and myself, during my residence at Edin- 
burgh ; — I heard not much of the neighbourhood 
of Grumble thorpe. The first letter I had from my 
sister, announced the death of Mrs. Creepmouse, 
with all the particulars of her last paralytic seizure, 
where she was to be buried, &c. Thinks-I-to- 
myself, — vastly interesting indeed ! I looked in 
vain for any thing about the Mandevilles, except 
as far as they were included in the following com- 
prehensive clause, — " All the neighbours are very 



THl^KS-l-TO-MYS£LF. 151 

anxious in their enquiries after you." — I was wick- 
ed enough to fancy an erratum ought to have been 
added, namely, for " are" read " appear ;" for 
that Mrs. Fidget for instance, or the Miss Fidgets 
had really made any very anxious enquiries after 
me, (the idiot, the Clod-pole, the half-starved chim- 
ney-sweeper,) was, I confess, a matter of much 
doubt. — Thinks-I-to myself, my dear sister knows 
little of the world, or she would have written appear 
at once. I learnt that Miss Twist frequently called 
there in her rides, and had paid tw r o long visits, 
since I came away. "I believe," says my sister, 
in her letter, " You are rather a favourite, for she 
is continually singing, ' When Delia on the plain 
appears,' since I told her it was an air of which 
you were particularly fond." The second letter I 
had, did, however, mention the Mandevilles: — 
" You will be sorry to hear," says my mother, 
" that your old acquaintance, Emily Mandeville, 
has been long ill ; — her complaint is thought to be 
nervous; poor Mrs. Mandeville is in much care 
about her :— the rest are all pretty well." 

Now in what manner I shall be expected by the 
reader to have borne this shock, I am not able to 
say ; for I shall (no doubt) have a vast number of 
different sorts of readers : — some very sensible souls 9 



152 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

perhaps, will think I swooned away immediately ; 
— some, that I fell hack lifeless, with my eyes fixed, 
and my mouth wide open ; — some, that I fell a 
sighing; and some, that I fell a crying ;— some, 
that I turned sick ; — some, that I opened the win- 
dow, and was going to precipitate myself from it 
immediately, but was prevented ; — [N. B. One of 
the hack windows in the old town of Edinburgh, 
fifteen stories high,] — some, perhaps, will fancy I 
ordered a chaise directly, or a horse, or took a place 
in the mail coach ; they would be all mistaken ; for 
I only know that I put the letter in my pocket, and, 
as breakfast was waiting for me, I went directly to 
Mr. Hargrave ; — he said, u You have a letter from 
Grumblethorpe, how do they all do ?" — '• Quite 
well," says I, " and desire to be remembered to 
you." — As Mr. H. had the newspaper to read, I 
had no occasion to talk, but I saw him every now 
and then look very hard at me, and I concluded I 
had, in a fit of absence, done something strange ; 
I determined therefore to be more attentive, but no 
attention would do, for all of a sudden, poor Mr. 
Hargrave jumped up, two yards I believe from the 
ground. — " Zounds ! M says he, " Mr. Dermont, 
what is all this ?" Poor man, he had great reason 
to complain, for in filling the tea-pot I had totally 



TH1NKS-1-TO-MYSELF. 153 

forgotten to turn back the cock of the urn, and 
there being an unfortunate breach on the side of 
the parapet of the tea-board, the over-flowings of 
the hot water found vent there, descending regular- 
ly, but very rapidly, in a grand parabola, directly 
upon his breeches below ; luckily the scalding qua- 
lity of the water was somewhat abated, as the 
breakfast was nearly over, but it was quite hot 
enough fully to justify the extraordinary altitude of 
the jump he took from his seat, as well as the hor- 
rible word that issued from his reverend mouth : 
had it been a little hotter, or had it happened a 
little sooner, it would have killed him. — As it was, 
the sop he was in, and * he fright he had suffered, 
justly deserved to be classed among the miseries of 
the tea-table. 

I Now if any body should be at all disposed to 
fancy that this accident was connected with the 
passage with my mother's letter, they are welcome 
to think so : — I found afterwards from Mr. Har- 
grave, that he had judged me to be going mad be- 
fore, for that I had twice, as near as could be, when 
my cup was empty, made his cup my slop-bason, 
and successively bit one great mouthful out of six 
pieces of toast, without once eating the remainder, 
which, of course, lay littered about the table. 



154 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

Before I had quite recollected myself, I retired 
again to my chamber, telling Mr. Hargrave, I must 
answer my letter by return of the Post ; — he said 
if that was the case, he shdild walk to Leith, so 
that I got all the morning to myself : — I took my 
pen and immediately began, — " My dear Mother ;" 
after looking at these three parts of speech, for a 
quarter of an hour, I took another sheet and be- 
gan, — " My dear Sister" and then I looked at 
these three words as I had done at the other, for a 
second quarter of an hour : — at last I took a third 
sheet, and began, — " My dear Father:" — Thinks- 
I-to-myself if I tell him all about it, perhaps I shall 
get leave to write to Emily herself: — but I kept 
looking at these three words longer than ever, with- 
out being able to stir a step further : — then I thought 
what if I boldly write to the dear girl herself at 
once, in verse ! tender verse ? — Who knows but it 
may recover her, if she pines for my absence, which 
I could not help fancying, or forbear hoping, was 
the exact cause of her malady : — I took therefore a 
longer sheet of paper, what they c&llfoolswjyj^ 
Thinks-I-to-myself, afterwards, a mighty proper 
name!— I had always a knack at writing verses 
from a child, but now my Muse seemed to be most 
desperately unkind ; — I walked up and down the 






THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 



155 



room, I verily think, for two hours together, at the 
very least, and as the reader perhaps might wish to 
see a specimen of the fruits of my prolific brain at 
the end of these two hours, he or she shall have a 
correct copy of the whole. — 

^^/^^ 



\ 




This is a faithful draft of the fond effusion of my 
overflowing heart, in which my readers may (if they 
study it close) discern, that in the whole two hours, I 
had not accomplished any thing like a beginnings 
I had invented by much straining, about ten dif- 
ferent apostrophes to stand at the head of my epistle, 



156 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

but not one would do ; — the blots at the bottom, — 
drawn out into some resemblance of a spider and 
an old man's head, shew the workings of my fan- 
cy, while my muse was in labour. 

Luckily for me, before I had quite and entirely 
lost my w 7 its, Mr. H., driven back by bad w T eather, 
returned to the lodgings, and coming up to my 
room, begged of me if I had not sealed my letter, 
to tell my mother that he had procured for my sis- 
ter the music she wished to have, and w r ould send 
it by the first opportunity : — this gave my mind 
relief directly, I sat down, began another letter, as 
before, — " My dear mother/' and scribbled on 
without once stopping till I got to the end of the 
paper : — all the obstacles were overcome the mo- 
ment Mr. H. gave me something for a beginnings 
and I very fairly inserted in my letter the following 
clause, in plain, sensible, unsophisticated language : 
— " I am extremely sorry to hear Miss Mandeville 
is so unwell; pray, when you write next mention 
how she is." — I was quite astonished to see with 
what ease I wrote it, and how much the best way 
it appeared, of expressing my anxiety. — It seemed 
quite to revive my heart, and I joined Mr. Har- 
grave, after finishing my letter, with my spirits 
quite exhilarated. I kept the daubed sheet of 



THIN'KS-I-TO-MYSELF. 15? 

foolscap, thinking if ever I saw poor Emily again, 
I would certainly give it her, as a proof of the 
folly and madness of my passion for her. 

It was nearly three weeks from this time before 
I heard again from Grumblethorpe. — At length 
came a long letter from my mother, which I opened 
wide, and turned and twisted about, but without 
seeing the name I wanted. — I read it: — it con- 
tained thanks to Mr. H. ;- — a long account of a con- 
cert at the Twists, at which my company was much 
desired ; — many directions to take care of myself, 
and to remember that the North was bleaker than 
the South, My hopes seemed to be at an end ; — I 
felt like a person listening to the reading of a will, 
by which he had expected to have inherited a large 
fortune, but without hearing so much as his name 
mentioned : — at length just as I was going to put 
it in my pocket, I spied something written on each 
side of the vacancy that had been left for the seal. 
— It was just as though my fortune was at 
last made, by the discovery and operation of a 
twentieth codicil ; — for lo ! and behold, there it 
was, written in small characters indeed, but de- 
lightfully legible : — " I had almost forgotten to tell 
you, that your old play-fellow, Emily Mandeville, 
is thought to be better. — I read to her the part of 



158 THINKS-I-TO-MYJSELF. 

youj* letter in which you enquired after her, and 
she desired me to say you were very good to think 
of her at so great a distance." Thinks- I-to-my self t 
distance indeed ! I kissed the letter over and over 
again ; — put it in my pocket and took it out again ; 
— opened it, read it, put it up again ; — opened it 
again and read it ; — opened my waistcoat, and laid 
it upon my heart while it was bumping, — and at 
night, I slept with it under my pillow. Now 
every thing had become easy to me. I had only to 
pray that she might not get well :— as long as she con- 
tinued ill, I found I could ask after her, express my 
concern for her, get my letters read to her, and 
even receive messages from her in return. I was 
now as happy as a lark, and had I had wings, could 
have soared as high in the sun-shine, whistling 
and singing all the way up to Heaven, my thoughts 
were so full of my old play-fellow, (as my mother 
called her,) that it was a great mercy I did not 
do Mr. Hargrave some serious mischief; — either 
by scalding him to death at breakfast, cutting off 
his head with the carving-knife at dinner, or burn- 
ing him in his bed at night, by sitting up to read 
my mother's postscript over and over again. 

Luckily he did all he could to cool my passion ; 
— for though it w T as in the depth of winter, he 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 159 

chose the very next day to set off upon an excur- 
sion to Aberdeen ; — on one day of our journey we 
were overtaken by a dismal fall of snow : — as Mr. 
H. was not very well, he stopped at a house we 
came to just as it began, while I went forward to 
the Inn ; he told me he would follow me when it 
ceased, but that if it continued, he would join me 
the next day. 

I rode on, and at length was compelled to stop 
at a most dreary inn, (if inn it could be called,) just 
on the skirts of a wide heath, which I did not dare 
to pass, as the road was totally obliterated. I 
therefore dismounted, and being blessed with mo- 
ney enough to command all the accommodations 
the house could supply, I got a roaring fire, and 
plenty of eggs and bacon, &c. for my early dinner ; 
—but I confess, when I saw the snow continue to 
fall, and reflected that I was separated from my 
companion, and had nothing to amuse me and en- 
gage my attention, but the dismal expanse of 
heath before my window, my spirits began to flao-; 
— I begged a book to read, but what was rather 
surprising in Scotland, they had but one in the 
house, and that had been left there by a traveller ; 
—I greedily caught at it when it arrived, but alas ! 
it w T as but a small comfort :— I wonder what the 



160 TftlNKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

reader would guess it to be : — perhaps a volume of 
Shakspeare, or Ossian; perhaps Chevy Chace, or 
the Battle of Flodden Field, or Marmion! No, 
none of these, I can assure him: — perhaps the 
Spectator or Guardian, or the History of Mary, 
Queen of Scots ; — no, none of these, but a plain 
and unadorned edition of the London Directory J J 
in which the exits and entrances of all the coaches 
and waggons, out of and into the metropolis, in 
the course and compass of every week, with every 
inn they put up at and depart from, were most 
charmingly registered, and all the information com- 
municated that could be given upon topics so 
highly interesting ! 

My despair was now complete. — Thinks-I-to- 
myself, I shall certainly die of the vapours. I sat 
at the window till my heart quite ached. I had 
not long before been reading Bunt's Winter Night, 
nor was it possible to forget Thomson's beautiful 
but dismal description of the poor lost cottager. 
ThinlxS-I-to-myself, as I cast my eyes over the 
heath, just ivhat follows, which you may call a 
poem if you please. If it had fourteen lines it 
might perhaps pass for a Sonnet \ — how it came 
into any shape but that of a soliloquy, I should be 
puzzled to tell you. 



THJNKS-I-TO-MYSEJ.F. Ifil 



THE SNOW STORM. 



Stay thy forebodings, busy busy Mind ! 

Why need^st thou feel the bitter blasts that blow ? 
Why need'st thou shudder at the Winter's wind. 

The petrifying frost and driving snow? 
Do not for thee reviving embers glow? 

Is not for thee the ready table spread? 
Does not for thee the horn cf plenty flow 1 ? 

Thuii art no beggar of thy daily bread ! 



II. 



Yet thou sitt'st trembling o'er thy brooding- thought, 

As if thou wert unsh-jlter'd and forlorn ; 
Shudd'ring at scenes of woe, all fancy -wrought ; 

Some shiv'ring soul to luckless fortune bom, 
From weeping wife, and famished children torn, 

'Wildered and lost in trackless depths of snow! 
At such self-painted prospects must thou mourn? 

Must the sigh heave, and tear of sorrow flow? 



1IL. 

It is perhaps full human so to do, 

For, what were life, if pity took her flight? 

It is full well to feel for other's woe, 

Yet let -thy /«*'//« persuade thee " all is right!" 
M 



162 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

The wretch that sinks may rise from his dark night, 
To brighter scenes of bliss that shall not cease ; 

Meet his fond friends in realms of endless light, 
Perpetual sunshine, and perpetual peace ! 

I think they are tolerably pretty and pathetic 
for a Clod-pole ; — but of this you may be well as- 
sured, gentle reader, that you will not find one 
fault in them, of which I am not myself aware, 
only I leave them to your civility and feeling, ra- 
ther than stop to amend them, as they were writ- 
ten so long ago. 

The next day Mr. Hargrave joined me; — if I 
were to tell you what happened to him at the place 
he put up at, it would make both your ears to tin- 
gle, and you would certainly split your sides with 
laughing ; — but you see I have got to go to Aber- 
deen to night, if possible, and so cannot stop to 
tell it you ; none of you can expect that I should, 
who know how precious a thing time is : — we made 
the best of our way to Aberdeen, after we had got 
together again, though at no small risk of being 
lost from the drifting of the snow. 

Mr. Hargrave was well known to one of the pro- 
fessors at Aberdeen, who received us most civilly. 
We staid there but a very short time. While we 
were there, Mr. H. intimated, that the journey was 



TH1NTCS-I-TO-MYSKI/F. 163 

undertaken solely on my father's account and mine, 
though he would not explain himself farther, I 
learnt the whole history of it afterwards : — nothing 
very particular occurred at Aberdeen, (the account 
of the place itself may be found elsewhere,) nor 
upon our return to Edinburgh, When I got back 
to the latter place, I found another letter from 
Grumblethorpe, written very soon after the former: 
—all it said of Miss Mandeville, was, c * they are 
aH well at the Vicarage; — Emily gets better 
daily." 

I know not whether the reader will have taken 
any pains to calculate, how long I have been at 
Edinburgh. I have looked a little over the fore- 
going pages to see if I could make out, but I must 
confess, it seems to me to be rather a mystery : — 
I wish it to be so, and that's the truth ; because, as 
I know r I shall be made responsible for. all these 
things, if my book falls into the hands of any of 
those catchpoles the Reviewers, I wish to do things 
decently at least, and not fall into any violent 
anachronism or breach of consistency. 

I want to have been at Edinburgh two years, and 
to be supposed to have studied hard, and to have 
become a proficient in Mathematics, Jurisprudence^ 
Chemistry, Anatomy, Nosology, Botain/, &e< and I 

m 2 



164 THINK S-I-TO-MYSELF. 

am not sure that I have taken quite time enough for 
all this : — it seems somewhat strange to me, but it 
looks, I must confess, as if I had not received above 
three or four letters from home, during the whole 
two years, which would be preposterous; — however, 
upon examining the bundle I have got, I find that 
this is a mere deception. In fact, I received many 
from my sister and father that I have not men- 
tioned. I have merely noticed those that had any 
thing in them concerning my dear, dear, dear, dear 
dea, de, d r r r r r r Emily ! ! ! ! 

The time came in short, (for time will come, 
whether we will or no,) for our return into the 
south of Britain. Mr. Hargrave began to call in 
his accounts, and I saw 7 plainly that we were be- 
ginning to depart : — w r e had large packages to send 
away of fossils and other natural curiosities, for the 
whole of Scotland abounds in such things, and w 7 e 
had meddled with them pretty much. — They w r ere 
not mere baubles, or cabinet specimens, that we 
sent home ; — we had collected abundance of things 
illustrative of different theories of the earth. We were 
neither of us disposed to become Huttonians, and that 
is all I wish to say upon that subject at present. 

On the eighteenth of March, one thousand seven 
hundred and blank, (for I don't w r ish to let vou too 



TI1INKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 1G5 

deeply into the secret,) we took our leave of Edin- 
burgh, journeying home eastward, as we had en- 
tered it westerly : — we stopped at Dunbar to see 
the Basaltic columns there, which are certainly ex- 
tremely curious. We passed one day at " our town 
of Berwick on Tweed," as the Briefs say. We 
visited the Holy Island also, (but heard no tolling 
of the midnight bell,) and proceeded on to New- 
castle, after visiting Alnwick Castle, the seat of his 
Grace of Northumberland : — the figures upon the 
top of the Castle, in the act, as it were, of sustain- 
ing a siege, amused me much ; — perhaps they are 
all removed or decayed before this. 

At Newcastle we visited the collieries, and de- 
scended in their mine-buckets, (or baskets rather.) 
We stopped a whole day at Durham : — I believed 
Mr. Hargrave wished to examine into the circum- 
stances of that great prize in the Ecclesiastical 
Lottery ; — not with any expectation of it, for though 
no man could be more worthy of it, yet undoubtedly 
no man could be less covetous or ambitious, but 
by way of seeing w T hat he might have attained to 
in his profession, had he been less worthy or more 
covetous, or more ambitious : — Nota bene, however, 
that just as I am writing this, that See happens to 
be in the hands of a most munificent Prelate, and I 



166 THIN KS-I-TO-MY SELL 

wish it may never be in worse hands , — for, Thinks- 
1'to-myself, 

ft He that does good with his money and pelf, 
Is a help to his neighbour as well as himself." 

From Durham, we went regularly on upon the 
great London road. Mr. Hargrave had promised 
to see me safe home, otherwise we should have 
parted in Lincolnshire, where we first met. 

As I got nearer and nearer to Grumblethorpe, I 
will leave any one to guess how my heart felt. It 
did not bump for Emily Mandeville only, it bumped 
for my excellent father, my dear and invaluable mo- 
ther, and my sister, whom I loved like myself. Mr. 
Hargrave himself felt delighted at the thoughts of 
seeing Grumblethorpe again, for nothing I believe 
could possibly exceed his regard, respect, and vene- 
ration for my father and mother. 

The driver, whom we took from the last stage, 
had never been at Grumblethorpe Hall before, so 
that instead of going straight as he should have done, 
to the end of the avenue,, he managed to make for 
an entrance of the park, which inevitably carried us 
past the Vicarage, by a road seldom travelled. The 
novelty of a carriage coming that way, naturally 
drew all the family to the window, and I had the 



TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 167 

pleasure of beholding the whole groupe, as I sup- 
posed, for I could not quite distinguish them : — I 
would have given the world to have got out, but I 
felt it to be little less than sacrilege to deprive my 
good father and mother and sister of the first greet- 
ings : — I therefore contented myself with only kiss- 
ing my hand over and over again to them, and 
passed on. — We at length drove up to the very 
steps of the Hall ; — immediately the doors flew 
open, and there stood my father, mother, sister, and 
many old servants ready to receive us. I ran into 
their arms, and was for some time quite overcome 
with the affectionate and sincere caresses I received. 

Mr. Hargrave demanded much of their attention, 
and helped of course to disembarrass matters ; — in 
short, we were at last safely landed at the Hall 
again ; — the trees I had wished good-bye to, stood 
where they did ; — the posts and the palings also ; 
— but probably all the geese and turkies that I 
had envied so much, as I parted from them two 
years before, had been killed and eaten, so that 
upon the whole, I was by far the best off after all : 
— all envy probably is of the same nature, and 
equally ill-founded. 

We had, of course* a long list of enquiries to an- 
swer, nor had I few to make. I found that the 



168 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

neighbourhood in general remained as it was, only 
that Mrs. Creepmouse was dead, as I have men- 
tioned, and Miss Fidget had gone off with the foot- 
man ;— the lovely, fine, puny, sickly, troublesome 
boy was gone to school, and Miss Charleville, with 
whom I partly fell in love, as I have described, was 
married to the Earl of Fitz- Arlington. 

The next morning, many messages of enquiry 
were sent, to know how Mr. Robert Dcrmont did, 
&c. and the next morning to that, I had the honour 
of receiving many visits ; for now I was no longer 
regarded as a boy. I was the heir-apparent to the 
Hall, come to years of tolerable discretion : — 
perhaps the reader will wonder whether I have 
been to the Vicarage yet ; — actually not ! I was 
close to it, and I felt that to be almost enough ; — 
sooner than precipitate matters, I chose to stay 
away. I even visited Nicotium Castle first; — if 
any body takes this for indifference, they are fools. — 
I say it without scruple. — They know nothing of 
the strange inconsistencies and mysteries of love. 
They were all extremely glad to see me at Nicotium 
Castle, but to say they were highly delighted might 
exceed the truth : — Miss Twist bestowed upon me 
nothing warmer than a few bob curtsies, and Mrs. 
Twist was more formal than familiar : — nevertheless 



THIN KS-I-TO-MY SELF. 169 

I saw plainly, with only half an eye, as the saying 
is, that Nicotium Castle was mine if I chose to ask 
for it. 

After visiting Nicotium Castle, my father him- 
self proposed going to the Vicarage: — he little 
thought what was the state of my poor heart. — We 
rode there, therefore, and found them all at home, 
except Mr. Mandeville : — Emily, I thought looked 
shockingly, but she seemed heartily glad to see me, 
only ashamed to shew it; — w r e behaved to each 
other as shyly as possible : — we just shook hands, 
and that was all. — I said I was glad to see her bet- 
ter; Mrs. Mandeville observed, that she had been 
very ill indeed, and had I spoken my mind honestly, 
I ought to have said that I was very glad of it, for 
so I really was on many accounts;— had she con- 
tinued in rude health and high spirits all the while 
I had been absent, my love probably might have 
abated, but as it was, I felt more than ever attached 
to her, because she had been ill, and because she 
looked ill. — What a monstrous strange complaint 
love is ! 

Miss Twist had been as well as possible all the 
while ; I don't think she had even a cold or a 
cough, nor had her spirits once changed ; she had 
talked about me, I believe, and sung Delia, and 



170 THINKS-I-TO MYSELF. 

thought often probably about my Coronet, but had 
any news arrived of the Coronet's having flown 
away, I very much question whether Delia would 
ever have been sung again : — however, I must not 
be too severe, for I verily believe, had Nicotium 
Castle flown away, or Miss Grizilda been disin- 
herited, my good father would have thought nothing 
about her; — she was certainly not altogether a 
favourite. 

Mr. Hargrave surprised me very much one morn- 
ing, by letting me into a secret of which I had be- 
fore no suspicion at all, namely, that in my absence, 
my sister Caroline had had an offer from Captain 
Charleville, and that it was likely to become a 
match. I was heartily rejoiced at this news, be- 
cause the family was truly amiable, and I was very 
certain that my sister was not likely to have fallen 
in love merely with his Peerage and Coronet, which 
I too justly suspected to be the case with Mis& 
Twist. 

My father and Mr. Hargrave, of course, passed 
much of their time together, and I suppose my fu- 
ture fortunes and destinies occupied much, if not 
most, of their attention. I managed as I could 
to visit the Vicarage, which was seldom : nor (had 
I had ever so good an opportunity) did I feel suffi- 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 171 

ciently at liberty to avow my attachment openly. 
1 certainly often looked and sighed and sighed and 
looked, in a way that must have excited great sus- 
picions, and I am doubtful whether I was always 
sufficiently careful to avoid pressing her hand, and 
saying what some people call w soft things'' to her. 

In the mean time, the communications with Ni- 
cotium Castle were frequent ; — they were continu- 
ally coming to us, and we going to them ; — in all 
our evening amusements, Miss Twist and myself 
seemed by some fatal circumstance or other to be 
brought together ; — if we played at cards, we were 
always placed next to each other ; — if we danced, she 
w r as to be my partner ; — if there was music, she sung 
Delia, and He that " would approach but dare not 
?nove" was sure to be me ; — if we played at forfeits, 
we were doomed to go behind the curtain together, — 
and if we played at consequences, we were sure to meet 
in a wood, and the end was kissing. — All these things 
produced remarks, and insinuations, and suspicions, 
and reports, and. expectations, so that I doubt not 
many thought the ring w r as bought, and a special 
licence sent for, and Nicotium Castle thoroughly- 
settled upon me and my heirs, whereas never had my 
consent been in any manner whatsoever thought of 
— they were all reckoning without their host. 



172 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

But one day, contrary to all my expectations, I 
was put into a considerable fright ; for who should 
attack me, but my dear friend, Mr. Hargrave. As 
we were walking together one day, towards the 
memorable Twist stile, he began upon the subject : 
■ — says he, " How happy am I to think that your 
sister is likely to marry so well : — what a comfort 
will it be to your worthy father and mother to see 
her not only so well settled, but united to so near 
and so respectable a neighbour : — the marriage of a 
daughter is a matter of extreme anxiety, what then 
must be the marriage and settlement of an only son, 
heir to the whole paternal inheritance ? Upon your 
choice, in this particular, my dear young friend, 
must depend far more than your own happiness, — 
the honour and happiness of those now alive, and 
by reflection, the honour at least of that long list of 
progenitors, from whom you are likely to inherit 
title and dignity : — in your choice, one thing seems 
chiefly to be considered : — to degrade yourself by a 
connection every way beneath you, would be base 
indeed ; — to be particular about family, seems un- 
necessary; — your own being already sufficiently 
conspicuous, fortune then is the thing that seems 
the most to be attended to ;. riches tend to break 
down many distinctions, and why should the great 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 173 

be backward to assist in ennobling those who may- 
be willing to enrich them ?" — I surely thought the 
whole business was coming out, and at this moment 
I dare say the reader expects the same, — but no 
such thing ; — he soon after ended his discourse, by 
saying, " Therefore, my good friend, w r hen you be- 
gin to look out for a wife, think of these things/' 

" My dear Sir," says I, taking up the conversa- 
tion, " suffer me to make one remark : — if every 
man was to be supposed to be equally at liberty, de- 
liberately to look out, as you call it, for that accom- 
modation called a icife, I might promise to obey 
your injunctions, but I have heard that some peo- 
ple come pop upon a wife before they are aware of 
it, without any " looking out" at all : — that some 
people have been known to marry for neither honour 
nor riches, and to be unable to do otherwise, spite of 
their teeth : — you seem to me, my dear Sir, to have 
proposed but tico cases to my consideration ; — first, 
to look out for a wife when necessary, and next, to 
make such a choice as may help to enrich myself, 
while I ennoble my elect : — now what am I to do, 
if I find a wife without looking out for one, and she 
should happen to be poor, — is it quite forbidden 
me to take a wife that I find by accident, be she 
never so good, or if I feel disposed to it, to ennoble 



174 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

the unendowed? — I am not talking of persons in 
every way below me, which to many, as you say, 
would be base indeed, — but what am I to do, if 
while I am ( looking out/ with all my eyes for a 
rich heiress of low degree to raise and ennoble, the 
twentieth child of some poor gentleman should 
come in my way, endowed with every virtue under 
the sun?" — Mr. Hargrave had no idea that I meant 
any thing serious, I believe, so that he only laughed 
at my method of parrying his attack, — We soon 
after returned to the Hall, where the Twists were 
engaged to dine with us, in a snug sort of way. 

They came a little before five.— -I had as usual to 
sit next to Miss Twist, and to bear as well as I 
could, many jokes, hints, insinuations, &c. as well 
as many plain advances on the part of the young 
lady, not at all in the way of love and regard, but 
of affectation and vanity, as though presuming 
upon the irresistibility of her three hundred thousand 
charms. 

Unfortunately, (that is, I mean, for three such 
terrible noodles as my father, Mr. Hargrave, and 
myself, who were no amateurs in the art of boxing,) 
just as the ladies had retired, my father happened 
to ask Mr. Twist, what had carried him to London 
in such extreme haste five days ago? for as we 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 175 

were going to church on the preceding Sunday, he 
had passed us in his chaise and four, as if he had 
been on an errand of life and death: — <{ O," says 
he, " I went to be present at the famous match 
between Bob Gubbins and Big Beelzebub, — I had 

a bet with Lord , of seven to four upon Bob. 

— It was a tight battle, I assure you: — Bob had 
the best of it for seventeen rounds at the least, and 
would certainly have bet, only Big Beelzebub hap- 
pened to put in such a confounded hit under his 
left jaw, just as he was returning to the eighteenth 
rally, that knocked him over and over, and I verily 
thought that all the sport would be at an end, and 
that he must have died on the spot : — it was noble 
sparring till then ; — I never saw Bob fight better : 
— Big Beelzebub, at one time, bled at every chan- 
nel, — nose, mouth, eyes, ears, neck, shoulder, back, 
breast ; — it would have done your heart good to 
have seen it." 

Tfwiks-I-to-myself, my Father's heart, indeed ! 
" The first round," continued Mr. Twist, u both 
sparred with great caution ; Bob began with a neat 
right handed hit, which being smartly returned, 
they fell to :— Bob seemed to give way at first, but 
in a short time, rallied and threw such a devil of a 
parcel of straight blows into Beelzebub's throat 



176 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF, 

and breast, that his mouth burst out with blood, 
and down he fell ; — so that to my great joy, the 
first blood and first fall were both completely in 
Bob's favour :— Big Beelzebub rose weak and sick- 
ish ; — Bob threw several blows away by round hit- 
ting, but at length overset Big Beelzebub again by 
one of the sharpest right-hand facers I ever saw : 
—Big Beelzebub rallied, and put in a tight blow T on 
Bob's mouth, which broke two of his grinders, but 
he kept his ground, and again threw his opponent, 
after boring him all round the ring. — I am con- 
fident Bob would have got the best of it, but for 
his last unlucky fall : — but I'll tell you what ;-*- 
you may depend upon it, if he don't die (which it 
is ten chances to one but he does) and Big Beelze- 
bub ever recovers his sight, (which is at present 
thought impossible,) I will make another match 
between them as soon as I can, and shall have no 
scruple to take the same bets on Bob ; for I never 
saw a fellow throw in his blows better in my life, than 
my friend Bob did, or do more to cripple his man : 
— I'll be bound he'll completely do him next time." 
Unluckily, the effect this delicate and delicious 
display of Mr. Twist's eloquence had upon my 
father, Mr. Hargrave, and myself, was to make us 
completely silent, not only during the whole of its 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 17/ 

continuance, but when he had got fairly to an end, 
so that before we could recover from the state of 
disgust (and sickness almost) into which he had 
thrown us, he abruptly turned aside to a fresh topic 

little less interesting 

" But, only think," says he, <( Mr. Dermont, of 
poor Tom DashT — "What of him?" says my 
father; " Shot himself !" says Mr. Twist :— " I 
had not heard a word of it," says my father ; — " It 
must be him" says Mr. Twist ; and pulling a news- 
paper from his pocket, — " Here," says he, " is the 
only public account Lhave seen of it ;" — " It is with 

extreme concern" " Aye, well they may say so, 

indeed ; poor Tom ! a better whip did not exist ; 
such a stud of horses !!" — •* It is with extreme con- 
cern we hear, thai a Gentleman very celebrated in the 
sporting world, (aye, celebrated he was indeed, the 
finest and boldest rider you ever saw, and such a 
shot!) put an end to his existence yesterday at an 
inn not very distant from the metropolis : — aye, at 
Salt-hill ; he was a member of the Whip Club ; 
four beautiful roans he used to drive, so steady in 
harness, he was one of the best whips among them ; 
— " but," says my father, 4i how do you know it 
was him, his name is not mentioned ?" — O, but I 
have it here in a private letter from a friend" says 

N 



178 THI^KS-1-TOMYSEi.F. 

Mr. Twist, pulling one from his pocket, of such a 
shape and colour as I scarcely ever saw before ; — 
it is from Sir Harry Hark-away's huntsman, with 
whom I occasionally correspond ; — here, at the bot- 
tom of his letter, he says, — "■ I suppose your Hon- 
ner will have heered of pure Muster Dash!! (Mus- 
ter Dash, he writes, for he can't spell very well, 
and indeed I can scarce read his writing;) — I sup- 
pope you will have heered of pure Muster Dash! 
what a Moll and Colly event has be, be, be, be," — 
the Devil, the fellow writes such a hand, I can't 
really read it, " he-ivappered him/' I think it is ; 
" perhaps/' says my father, " he-fallen him?" — 
" O, aye, be-fallen him/' says Mr. Twist, u so it 
is :— What a Moll and Colly event has befallen 
him at Salt Hill ! — Aye, that's the place you see 
exactly , — an inn not very distant from the Metropo- 
lis— there he shot himself, certainly :" — " But why 
shot himself?" says my father ; " I don't see that 
you have learnt that yet ;" — " What do you think 
he'd hang himself," says Mr. Twist, hastily, " like 
a scoundrel, or go through the tedious ceremony of 
poisoning himself? If his existence is terminated, as 
I too much fear, depend upon it, it was by a bullet, 
and from his own hand ;• — Tom was not a bungler 
— I wonder, what will become of his stud; — I 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 179 

should like to have his roans myself; — when I was 
a member of the Leicester hunt, he used to ride a 
famous colt of Eclypse's, so like, that O'Kelly him- 
self offered 400 guineas for it, merely on account 
of its likeness ; — not a hair different : — if you had 
but seen that horse take a leap ; — it was quite a 
grand sight ; so cool, so steady ; a child might have 
rode him !— he used to rise and look round, as it 
were, to see if there were any stakes or bad ground 
on the other side, and whatever there might be, he 
w 7 as sure to clear it. — I never shall forget a run we 
had one thirteenth of November ; — bitter cold morn- 
ing ; long time before w r e found : — we were sitting 
on our horses together, under a wood, and I pulled 
out a hunting flask I had full of brandy, that I 
would not have lost for the w r orld ;— just as poor 
Tom had got it to his mouth to drink, they un- 
kennelled the fox ;— instead of returning my poor 
bottle into my possession, he threw it from him into 
the thickest part of the wood behind him, and off 
he went ; — I never got near him again the w 7 hole 
day : — the horse was fitter for a race-horse, but he 
would not run him, except for the hunter's plate 
once at Ascot, where he won hollow : — poor Tom ! 
well, it's w r ell he came to no worse end ! he was 
as near hanged once as could be ;" — " How so?" 

n 2 



180 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

says Mr. Hargrave. — " Why the case you see," 
says Mr. Twist, " was exactly this : — I had it from 
one that was there : — At a Tavern dinner at Liver 
pool one day, Tom being in the chair, proposed a 
profane toast;— the man that sat next to him re- 
fused to drink it ; — Tom insisted ;— the man would 
not 5 he declared he would not only not drink it, 
but if he knew the inventor of it, he should be dis- 
posed to chastise him : — i( Not if it were me, my- 
self, Sir," says Tom, " I suppose ?" (for in fact it 
was his own invention) ; — " Yes, Sir," says the 
other, " if it were you yourself, you,- — upon which,, 
Tom, who had plenty of pepper in his blood, threw 
a glass of wine plump in his face ; — you may be 
pretty sure it was not easy to hush such a matter 
up ; — pistols were procured by the friends of each 
party, and they went out immediately; — at the 
very first fire, Tom's ball passed through his heart, 
and he dropped just as dead as a pancake. — Tom 
made off, as you may suppose, and it was well he 
did, for the fellow he killed was much beloved, and 
\vas well connected, and had a wife and nine chil- 
dren, so that you may easily think it made a pretty 
dust : — Tom got abroad some how or other, and 
there he staid till all the proceedings against him 
were supposed to be at an end, but as he certainly 



TH1MKS-I-TO-MYSKLF. 181 

gave great provocation, had he been caught and 
tried, before some illiberal old woman of a Judge, he 

would certainly have been hanged." Thinks-I- 

to-myself hanging would have been a thousand 
times too good for him. 

" But, pray," says my father, " how can you 
call it a better end than he is come to now, if it 
should be true that he has shot himself V — " He 
could not possibly, my dear Sir," says Mr. Twist, 
" have done a better deed ; — he was completely 
dished i — he could never have appeared again ;— the 
rest of his days must, probably, have been passed 
in the King's Bench :" — " I don't quite know, 
Twist," says my father, " what you mean by dished, 
but I should just wish to ask, where you think the 
rest of his days will be passed now ?" — " O," says 
Mr. Twist, *' faith, I never thought of that; my 
neighbour here, Mr. Hargrave, perhaps, would an- 
swer that better than me, but poor Tom, I must 
confess, I believe, did not much think of passing his 
time any where but here, and when he was tired of 
it, he made his bow, and away he went ;" — " and 
left," says my father, " all his brother whips to fol- 
low, I suppose ;" — " follow where!" says Mr. Twist. 
— " I don't know," says my father, " but not I 
think where they used to follow him, which was 



182 THINKS-1-TQ-MYSELF. 

generally, I apprehend, to the stable ;" — " aye, 
often, indeed," says Mr. Twist, " they did ; it would 
have done your heart good to have seen the style 
in which he kept his horses :" — " Well," says my 
father, " I am glad of that for the sake of the poor 
horses, for, for what I know, they might be very 
sensible and worthy horses, and deserve to be pam- 
pered and high fed;" — " they did, indeed/' says 
Mr, Twist, not at all seeing the drift of the insinua- 
tion., 

" Well," says my father, " but what do you 
really think Tom Dash will ever do in a world 
without horses, or stables, or tvhips, or hounds, or 
birds, or guns ?" — " I don't think he'll go there," 
says Mr. Twist : — " hold," says my father, " re- 
member Twist, he must go, if he's called, and he can't 
shoot himself out of the other world as he has shot 
himself out of this ;■" — " that I can't tell," says Mr. 
Twist : — " but surely," says my father, u you can't 
think he will have that power;" — ** I tell you," says 
Mr. Twist, " I don't know, but of this I am very cer- 
tain, that he had power to go out of this world when he 
chose, and he made use of it." — " It seems to be just 
as you say," says my father, " and yet I much ques- 
tion the truth of it."— " How so," says Mr. Twist, 
" what didn't he shoot himself?" " Oh ! 1 don't 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 183 

deny that/' — says my father, " but I much doubt 
whether he can be fairly said to have had poiver to 
doit:— you, yourself, could certainly shoot me at 
this moment if you chose it, but do you think the 
Law has given you power to do it ? Do you think 
you could safely do it, without any chance of an 
after-reckoning?" " O, O," says Mr. Twist* " I 
smoke you now ; — you think suicide not lawful /" — i 
" I do/' says my father ; " can you think other- 
wise ?»_« To be sure/' says Mr. Twist, " and it 
is but fair, that as we came into this w r orld with- 
out our own consent, we should not be compelled 
to stay in it if we don't like it ;"— <( that's very 
good indeed/' says my father, " so I suppose you 
think when a culprit is put upon his trial, because 
he is brought to the bar against his own consent* 
he may quit the court at his own discretion, and 
not wait for the sentence of removal." 

" I'll tell you what," says Mr. Twist, " I am 
no Parliament man, (I was going to say no Parson, 
but I would not for the world be rude to Mr. Har- 
grave here,) but I say I am no Parliament man, or 
Speechifier, and therefore I cannot undertake to 
argue the point with you, but I have at home, a 
Poem, written I do suppose by one of the cleverest 



184 THIN1CS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

chaps in Christendom, where the business is proved 
to a nicety : it begins, " Averse from Life, nor well 
resolved to die" — " [ wish I could repeat it, but 
Fll give it to my friend Bob here, to-morrow, and 
he shall read it to you ;«— if you can answer that, then 
I will be ready to confess that poor Tom Dash had 
better have staid where he was ;" — " you had bet- 
ter," says my father, " give it to Bob, for if you 
give it to me, fifty to one but I put it in the fire j M 
— H I w 7 ould not part with it for the world," says 
Mr. Twist, " so don't play tricks with it, I only 
say, answer it." 

My father begged he would send it ;• — t( it will 
surely be pleasant," says he, " to any of us, nay, 
an extreme happiness, to learn that we may shoot 
ourselves whenever we please ; only 'till I see the 
Poem, be assured, Twist, that I won't believe we 
possess any such power or privilege ; — no,, not if 
ten thousand Tom Dashes were to shoot themselves 
before my face." — Just at this moment a summons 
to tea arrived, and we arose to go to the drawing- 
room. 

My father, I really believe, felt glad to have 
inveigled Mr. Twist, as it were, into an argument 
of this sort, hoping in time to be able to open his 



TlilNKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 185 

eyes a little to the extreme folly, worthlessness, and 
absurdity of the life led by himself, and too many 
of his acquaintance. 

After tea, we had Delia, which made, I sup- 
pose, its usual impressions upon us both ; — that is, 
it made Miss Twist think of me, and me of Emily 
Mandeville ; I confess I could not help thinking 
more than ever of the latter. Thinks-I-to-myself, 
surely, nothing can render it very decorous in me 
to ennoble the daughter of a stable-keeper, a groom, 
a huntsman, the friend of murderers and suicides; 

The next day the Poem came, directed to the 
reader's most humble servant, that is, to me, the 
elod-pole, and fitly enough ; for, Thinks-I-to-my- 
self, Mr. Twist surely fancies I shall never consent 
to marry his daughter unless I have free leave from 
God and man, to quit the world at any time afterwards 
that I please ! Upon running my eye over the poem, I 
began to think it might be quite safe in Mr. Twist's 
hands, for it seemed to me much above both the 
extent of his comprehension, and the measure of 
his taste ; — the lines were nervous, strong, and ap- 
parently from the hand of a master : — I carried 
them to my father, he read them very attentively : 
— " Have you read them ?" says he. — " I have, 
Sir," s&ys I :—" Do you like them ?" says my 



186 TH1NKS-I-T0-MYSELF. 

father. — " I think the lines are certainly strong, 
and the poetry good ;" — '* but the argument" says 
my father, — " I should wish, Sir, to consider it 
more," says I ; — " do, my boy," says my father, 
" and mind put down upon any scrap of paper, 
your objections as you go along, if any occur." 

I took the poem from him, and, as was gene- 
rally the case, when I wanted to consider things 
with particular attention, I walked into the park 
with the poem in my pocket ; — when there, I pe- 
rused it again carefully ; noted my objections with 
a pencil, as my father had desired, and was going 
to return, when, Thinks-I-to-myself 9 why not an- 
swer it in verse ? — I retired into a more secluded 
part of the park, and taking stanza by stanza, 
went through the whole, 'till I had written a regu- 
lar reply. 

I carried it in haste to my father, and he ran 
with it eagerly to Mr. Hargrave ; as they both ap- 
proved of it, I wrote it out fair, and as they seemed 
to think it a proper reply to a mischievous poem, 
which, for what I know, may still be travelling 
about the world alone, as was the case when it 
came into my hands, I shall here present the reader 
with the companion I ventured to provide for \t x 
sincerely hoping that no Tom Dash will hencefor- 



TlUNKS-1-TO-MYSELF. 187 

ward shoot himself, 'till he has carefully read both : 
— as for the poetry of the latter, I care not a fig 
about it ; I can only assert, which I do most posi- 
tively, that the argument it contains will for ever 
prevent my Tom Dashing my own brains out, yea, 
though I should happen to be wedded to such 
another as Miss Twist. 



188 TH1NKS-1-TO-MYSELF. 



THE SUICIDE. 

Averse from Life, nor well resolv'd to die, 
Us'd but to murmur I retain my breath ; 

Yet pant, enlarg'd from this dull world to try 
The hospitable though cold arms of death. 

What future joys should bid me wish to live? 

What flatt'ring dreams of better days remain? 
What prospect can obscure existence give, 

A recompense for penury and pain ? 

Is there an hope that o'er thisunton'd frame, 

Awakened Health her wonted glow shall spread ? 

Is there a path to pleasure, wealth or fame, 

Which sickness, languor, and remorse can tread ? 

Why therefore should I doubt, what should I fear? 

Why for a moment longer bear my grief ? 
Behold ! — my great Deliverer is near, — 

Immediate as I wish his prompt relief. 

Oh ! Instance strange of free but blinded will, 
Discuss'd so much, so little understood ; 

To bear the certainty of present ill, 

Before the certain chance of ill or good ; 

But what that chance !— Why be it what it may, 

Still 'tis a chance,— and here my woes are sure ? 

— " Yet think these woes are sorrows of a day, 
While those to all eternity endure!" 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 189 

Think of the horrors of eternal pain ; 

" Imagination startles at the name ; 
Nor can impress upon the labouring brain, 

Duration endless still, and still the same." — 

Well hast thou said ; — nor can it be impress'd — 

Has blind credulity, that abject slave, 
Who thinks his nothingness, for ever bless'd. 

Shall hold eternal triumph o'er the grave? 

When oceans cease to roll, recks melt away, 

Atlas and iEtna sink into the plain ; 
The glorious Sun, the elements decay, 

Shall Man, Creation's flimsiest work remain ? 

What shall remain of Man? His outward frame ? 

Soon shall that moulder to its native dust ! 
Or haply that unbodied subtle flame, 

Which occupies and animates the bust? 

Let but a finger ache, the kindred Soul, 

Its intimate alliance shall perceive ; 
Let ultimate destruction grasp the whole, 

The Soul immortal and unchang'd shall live? 

Stop but one conduit, and the tone is lost, 

Bat, burst each pipe, and tear up every key; 

Then shall the decompounded Organ's ghost, 
Swell the loud peal of endless harmony? 

So shall that quality whose pow'rs arise 

From various parts by nicest art arrang'd ; 

With every shock the} r suffer, sympathize, 
Yet after their destruction live unchang'd. 



190 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

So much for argument, the Legends vain 

Of Priestly craft, reach not th' ingenuous mind ; 

Let knaves invent and folly will maintain, 

The wildest system that deludes mankind. 

Did there exist the very Hell they paint, 
Were there the very Heav'n they desire j 

'Twere hard to choose, a Devil or a Saint, 
Eternal Sing-Song, or Eternal Fire. 

Ye idle Hopes of future joys, farewell ! 

Farewell ye groundless fears of future woe 1 . 
Lo ! the sole argument on which to dwell, 

Shall I, or shall I not, this life forego? 

I know the storm that waits my destin'd head, 
The trifling joys I yet may hope to reap ; 

The momentary pang I have to dread, 

The state of undisturbed undreaming sleep ! 

Then all is known, — and all is known too well, 
Or to distract, or to delay my choice ; — 

No hopes solicit, and no fears rebel, 

Against mine ultimate determin'd voice. 

Had I suspicions that a future state 

Might yet exist, as haply I have none ; 
Twere worth the cost to venture on my fate, 
Impell'd by curiosity alone. — 

Sated with life, and amply gratified 

In every varied pleasure life can give, 

One sole enjoyment yet remains untried, 
One only novelty, — to cease to live, 



THI^KS-l-TO-MYSELF. 191 

Not yet reduc'd a scornful alms to crave, 

Not yet of those with whom I live, the sport; 

No great man's pander, parasite or slave, 
O death ! I seek thy hospitable port ! 

Thou like a Virgin in her bridal sheet, 

Seeraest prepar'd consenting kind to lie; 

The happy bridegroom, I, with hasty feet, 
Fly to thy arms in rapfrous extacy ! 



192 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 



ANSWER. 

Never more modulate with your sweet aid, 
Ye gentle Muses ! such unhallow'd strains ! 

" Resolv'd to die ;" shall this by Man be said? 

Thankless for pleasure, shall he bear n« pains? 

To Him who from the cold tomb hopes to rise, 

Death's icy arms full " hospitable" are ; 
But who, averse from this world, murm'ring flies, 
Thy sting, O Grave! mistakingly may dare! 

Why dost thou ask, if flattVing hopes remain? 

If to thy " unton'd frame" health may return? 
Sure to new scenes of pleasure or of pain, 

Some hand may burst the cerements of thy urn. 

The varying seasons, expectation give : 

Go to the clos'd-up buds in winter's gloom, 

Ask by what recreating power they live, 

In gay spring-tide who renovates their bloom ! 

This is experience : — but the grave's unknown ? 

From pain, from sickness, and from penury ; 
From earthly tribulations, when thou'rt flown, 

How dost thou know Death will deliver thee? 

It is no instance of a blinded will 

To shun a chance so little understood; 

Better to bear the weight of present ill, 

Than risk (he certain loss of future good. 



THTN=KS-1-TQ-MYSELF. 191 

What is thy chance then? — Here thy lot is sure ; 

11 The days of Man are three score years and ten^ y 
And seldom more ; — how long they may endure, 

The wisest knows not, if we live again. 

Why does Eternity so startle you? 

Say, is it easier to comprehend, 
W r hat pow'rsthis mighty system can undo. 

And ever} r -thing annihilate and end? 

Exert thy reason, surely that's no slave ; 

Why sbeuld'st thou trust, to what thou can st not knomJ 
Thy thoughts destroy us, reason strives to save, 

And unpresumifig, says, it may be so. 

Should i( Oceans cease to roll, Rocks melt away, 

" Atlas and iEtna sink into a plain, 
41 The glorious Sun, the elements decay," 
Man, the Creator's image, may remain ! 

All may remain of Man ! His outward frame 

May for the present moulder and decay ; 
But yet not lost, if God remain the same ; 

He hath -called uiifonnd beings into day ! 

Let but a finger ache, the kindred soul 

Its intimate alliance may perceive ; 
Yet cut off limbs, the mind continues whole, 

Uninjtir'd, unimpar'd, it yet, may live* 

Stop but one conduit, and the tone is lost ; 

And, burst each pipe, and tear up every key ; 
Still for some iiew-formM frame, the " Organ's Ghost," 

May yet exist; unaHei'd Harmony? 
O 



194 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

So may " that quality," whose pow'rs arise 
Not from man's feeble and decaying frame, 

With every shock it suffers sympathize, 
Yet after its destruction, live the same. 

May this he argument; — th> ingenuous mind 

Builds not on Priestly craft, or legends vain ; 

Sure the sad system that destroys mankind, 

Knaves have invented, folly does maintain! 

Is there the Hell that Holy Writ declares, 

The Heav'n we hope for, is it really such, 

The wretch that shrinks from this world and its cares 
In such a choice, would hesitate not much. 

« Shall I, or shall I not, this life forego ?»— 

This is the argument on which you'd dwell ; 

Yet sure 'tis weak, unknowing where you go, 
To bid the chances of this world farewell. 

The will of HeaVn's conceal'd from human eye ; 

How dare you say, you " know the storm to come?" 
The parting pang may he but momentary, 

But may there be no dreaming in the tomb ? 

All is not known ; — yet sure enough is seen 
Much to delay and counteract thy choice : 

Hopes should solicit, fears should intervene 
Against thy rash and ill-determin'd voice. 

Thy curiosity will soon be o'er ; 

Why should'st thou go in danger all alone ? 
Can'St thou not tarry one short moment more? 

The term of this Life's limited and known. 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 196 

Sated with Life, and all its varying joys, 

Try 110 new scene, you cannot judge of well, 

God in his own good time will raise his voice, 
If you believe not Heavn yet risk not Hell ! 

" No great man's pander, parasite, or slave, 

" Nor yet of those with whom you live, the sporty 

" Nor yet reduc'd a scornful alms to crave,*' 
Why like a fugitive to death resort? 

Death's arms are hospitable but to those 

Who have fulfil I'd on Earth Heav'n's high decrees; 

The Good in the cold grave may find repose, 
And wake at last to Heavenly extacies. 



My father would have the answer sent to Nico- 
tium Castle, and he got Mr. Hargrave to carry it ; 
— what Mr. Twist said to it, Mr. Hargrave would 
never exactly tell us, but he assured us, that before 
he left him, Mr. Tw T ist expressed a wish that poor 
Tom Dash had read it ; — he afterwards acknow- 
ledged to my father, that he would look sharp him- 
self before he ever took such a leap ; so that alto- 
gether I believe it did good ; — but as for arguing the 
matter much, he was certainly not very capable of 
it, either in prose or verse. 



196 THJNKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

Not long after the before mentioned visit 
and the writing of the poem, I strolled down 
to the Vicarage, thinking in my own mind 
that I would soon muster up courage to disclose 
to Emily the situation of my heart. While 
I was there, my mother and sister called, and, quite 
unexpectedly to me, proposed taking Emily home 
in the carriage to pass three or four days at the 
Hail; — bump, bump, bump, bump, went my poor 
heart directly : — the invitation was accepted, and 
she actually returned with them. — I went to Mrs. 
Fidget's with a message from my mother, rejoicing 
all the way of course at the thoughts of finding 
Emily at the Hall on my return. 

Now I suppose, that any body who never had 
my complaint, would naturally conclude that all 
the time Emily staid at Grumblethorpe, I was par- 
ticularly lively and gay : exerted all my talents to 
amuse her and engage her attention ; — nothing of 
the kind ! — I was ten times more shy of her than 
of Miss Twist : — If I spoke to her upon the most 
common occasion, it was always under some em- 
barrassment, and if I attempted at any time to be 
witty and facetious, nothing could possibly exceed 
the nonsense that came out of my mouth, so that at 
last I Legman seriously to think of laying aside tjiat 



THINKS-1-TO-MYSELF. 197 

organ of speech, and of talking to her merely with 
my eyes : — with the latter, I felt far more capable 
of discoursing with her, and had no reason to think 
such ocular language was very unintelligible to 
her : — had she had but confidence and assurance 
enough to answer me, (which however, I liked her 
only the better for not having) I make no doubt 
but that the exact state of both our hearts might have 
been made known to each other without the utter- 
ance of letter, syllable, word, or sentence. 

One evening, during her stay, the Twdsts came. 
— I believe they wondered to see the companion 
my sister had chosen. — Nothing could exceed the 
assurance with which Miss Twist appeared to make 
me her ow T n : — had she had a spark of real love for 
me, she would have been more diffident, as I knew 
by my own feelings. While we were amusing our- 
selves all together with charades, riddles, thread- 
paper verses, and other such wonderful efforts of 
genius, she slipped a paper into my hands, which 
she said was a conundrum; when I opened h% I 
found it to be, — 

" If you love me, as I love you, 
" Need this twain be longer two?" 

which I apprehend she had learnt of her house- 
maid ; I pretended to laugh at it, but am ashamed v 



198 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

to say, was at the same time inwardly provoked 
to think to myself the following short reply, — 

" If you love me, as I love you, 

" I know the reason why we're two" 

But indeed I verily believe that the twain were 
upon pretty equal terms, and that she did really 
love me much about as well as I loved her ; how 
many twain under such circumstances become one 
in the course of every year, I pretend not even to 
guess, but perhaps, now and then, riches and coro- 
nets do meet together under no better circum- 
stances ; perhaps some times under worse ; I know 
nothing about it. 

I began, however, to be very confident that 
some ecclaircissement must take place very soon, but 
as I studiously avoided giving her any encourage- 
ment, I was in hopes some of the elders of the 
party would think fit to begin the enquiry I wished 
to be made into the state of my sentiments. Emily 
staid with us four days; — during which time, 
though I had not suffered a vow or a promise, or 
even an enquiry to pass my lips, I yet felt satisfied 
that I had made many communications of this 
nature with my eyes ; — I w r as still, however, under 
considerable alarm about the state of her heart ; — 
she had a cousin who often visited at the Vicarage, 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. ] 99 

just about her own age ; — whose eyes I could have 
poked out at any time, and given them to the birds, 
I felt so afraid of them, for he looked at her as well 
as me, and while she was with us, she was work- 
ing him a purse. The first time I discovered who 
this purse was for, I passed the whole night 
without once closing my eyes, in such an agony of 
distress, and despair, and torment, that it is a 
great wonder I was not quite a corpse before the 
morning. 

I have often heard this, and that, and t'other 
pain mentioned, as the icorst that mortals can en- 
dure; — such as the tooth-ache, ear-ache, head-ache, 
cramp in the calf of the leg, a boil, or a blister ; — 
now I protest, though I have tried all these, no- 
thing seems to me at all to come up to a pretty sharp 
fit of jealousy, — Give me the man that will lay 
quite quiet all night in his bed, and sleep com- 
posedly, after he has had reason to suspect, that 
some other man is of far more account item, than 
himself in the eyes of his mistress ! for my own 
part the torture of such a state of mind always ap- 
pears to me so transcendantly terrible, that even 
now I had rather have the tooth-ache, ear-ache, and 
cramp all at once, with a blister on my back, into 
the bargain, than undergo what I felt, the night 



200 THINKS-IVFQ-MYSEJLF. 

of which I speak ; I mean, when I found that the 
purse Emily was netting, (and which I had been 
every evening admiring,) was promised to her cou- 
sin : — I have heard since that he is really a very 
good sort of a young man, and yet that night I 
could not get out of my head that he was a devil! 
— a downright devil! — & fiend! I suppose this was 
all very natural, but it serves to shew, what blun- 
ders nature may make when she goes to work with- 
out reason. — Thinks~I-to-myself, most cerlainly, 
" la raison n'est pas ce qui regie l' amour " 

What will the reader think was the state of my 
mind, when a little while afterwards, my sister 
having called at the Vicarage, brought me back 
a purse exactly of the same pattern % — " There," 
says she, " Robert, you are in luck ; — you admired 
the purse so much that Miss Mandeville was net- 
ting while she was with us, that she has been at 
the trouble of working another for you exactly 
like it, of which she begs your acceptance ; — it is 
not quite the same, I see," says she, " for I ob- 
serve she has honoured you with gold tassels instead 
of silk ones." I leave you to guess, gentle sentimental 
reader, whether the purse would have at all risen 
in value, had it been filled brim full with all Miss 
Twist's hundreds of thousands, of pounds-.. 



TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 201 

Two or three mornings after this dear and preci- 
ous present was made to me : — (I cannot help stop- 
ping now to think how often I kissed it,) while 
we were at breakfast, the post came in, and my 
father opened one of the letters, — " the deuce take 
it," says he, " its come at last !" Thinks- I-to-my- 
self, what's come ? — but my mother said it out 
aloud; — " What's come at last, Mr. Dermont?" — 
u Aye," says my father, " poor Mr. Dermont ! 
you must take leave of him, I am afraid for ever !" 
— " Good God," says my mother " what do you 
mean?" and was near fainting : — my father, God 
help him > had not the smallest intention of excit- 
ing such alarm : — when he saw my mother turn so 
pale, he was frightened out of his wits ; — " Lord," 
says he, " how could I be such an idiot ; it's no- 
thing but that nasty Scotch Barony that is come ; 
for old Lady Tay -arid-Tumble is dead, and I am 
Lord Kilgamock !" 

Never did a peerage, I believe, Scotch, English, 
or Irish, meet with a more unwelcome reception ; 
for we were all too much occupied with the reco- 
very of my mother to take any further notice of it, 
so that by the time Mr. Hargrave joined the break- 
fast party, the Baroness Kilgamock seemed to have 
quite forgotten it, for as soon as he entered,— 



202 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

u Do," says she, " Mr. Dermont, make Mr. Mar- 
grave understand that we are not all crazy, for I 
am sure he must think so :" — as mv mother o-ot 
better, we of course returned to our seats, and 
then Mr. Hargrave was duly made acquainted 
with all that had passed. 

It was settled, however, that not a word at pre- 
sent should be said about it: — " for God's sake," 
says my father, " let me take breath a little before 
it is made known, for I fear I shall soon be sur- 
feited with ' my Lord/ and ' your Lordship' " — 
It could not, however, be kept secret long, for in 
two hours after, an express arrived, requiring my fa- 
ther's presence in Scotland, if possible, or if not pos- 
sible at least in London, to sign some papers of con- 
sequence. — The news therefore transpired, and Mr. 
Dermont became my Lord, — and for my own part, 
let the title come as it would, I, of all people in 
the world, had reason to be glad ; for nothing 
could be more puzzling than my own appellation 
before my father became a lord, for being not far 
advanced beyond my boyhood, some of the ser- 
vants would still continue to call me Master Bobby ; 
some advancing a little further, would call me 
Mr. Bobby; some Mr. Robert, and some, Mr. 
Robert Dermont ; — but now the point was happily 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 203 

settled :— the Honourable Bob or Bobby would 
never do, the Honourable Robert was quite right 
in matters of form, but for colloquial purposes and 
cases of personal address, Mr. Dermont became 
my exclusive property. 

It was curious to see how many notes we re- 
ceived in the compass of a few days, directed to 
the Right Honourable Lady Kilgamock. — Poor 
Miss Twist made a blunder that was very 
natural, but almost laughable from its coming so 
soon ; for on the very evening of the day the news 
came, my sister received a note from her, directed 
to the honourable Miss Kilgamock ; — she fancied, 
poor thing, that we were Kilgarnocked from one 
end of the family to the other, and that Dermont 
was become quite a plebeian name, — a mere cast 
away. 

The first person I saw after the said arrival of. 
the title, was Mr. Mandeville. If the reader thinks 
he made a lower bow to the Honourable Mr. Bob 
than usual, he will be much mistaken, for he came 
on the contrary, expressly to chide and rebuke me, 
almost to insult me : — Emily having made me a 
present of a purse, I naturally, but perhaps still 
without reason, (who ought always to be at hand 
to check her wayward sister) had wished to make 






204 THINKS-X-TO-MYSELF. 

her some present in return, and because I was far 
from London and every other place where a sump- 
tuous present might be purchased, I had begged 
my sister to let me have back a locket I had given 
her with my hair in it, very prettily ornamented 
with pearls.— This present, Mr. Mandeville in 
much form brought back to me ; — my heart bumped 
as much as ever, though I had become the Honoura- 
ble ; — he gave it back in my hand, and begged I 
would on no account give her such a present : — 
" If you have some paltry thing," says he, e ' about 
the worth of her purse to send back, I'll freely take 
it, as a present from one play-fellow to another, but 
as for your lockets and hair, I must not admit such 
things."— " My dear Mr. Mandeville," says I, 
" you shall have what you please, only let me beg, 
that if I give it to you, you will not vainly fancy 
that you have the worth of the purse ; — how much 
I value it, I neither dare tell you, or any body 
else ;" — he shook me by the hand, and wished me 
good bye, taking with him a mere fancy seal that 
I had brought from Scotland. 

Any body will suppose that we were now sel- 
dom without company, but the title, I plainly saw, 
had redoubled all the attacks of the Twist family, 
so that at last, I fairly felt it necessary to speak 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 205 

to Mr. Hargrave about it. — u As we were riding 
together one day, — " I see/' says I, " my dear Sir, 
some things daily happen, that I am afraid will 
one time or other occasion misunderstandings, if 
not disappointments: — I see that both at home 
and at Nicotium Castle, expectations are enter- 
tained that I shall one time or other marry Miss 
Twist; — my good father, I think, has partly set 
his heart upon it, but the Twists, I am sure, make 
certain of it : — it is fit, therefore, I think, that I 
should, openly and explicitly, explain to somebody, 
that that match never can take place ! Nothing, I 
think, can ever possibly persuade me to marry a 
woman so erroneously and so foolishly educated : — 
of her person I say nothing. — If I could love her, 
1 should not care about the frame her soul hap- 
pened to be set in, — but I cannot. — Her father is 
to me little less than an object of sovereign con- 
tempt, except that I pity him, and therefore, 
would go far to do him any good. — Her mother is 
a weak, vain, fantastical woman, and after this, 
what can we expect the daughter to be, except 
indeed, I must observe, that it might be otherwise 
if Miss Watson had full sway : — then she might 
be something ; but with a father and mother so 
deplorably ignorant, an angel of a governess could 



206 THINKS-1-TO-MYSELF. 

do nothing. I leave it to you, my dear Sir, to 
make this known to my father, and that I may be 
as ingenuous as possible, — I wish to add at once, 
that my heart is otherwise engaged, and I think 
indelibly so." 

Here I stopped; — and Mr. Hargrave stopped 
also, — his horse I mean, for as yet he had said 
nothing; — however, after a little recollection, he 
rode on :— " I have listened," says he, " attentively 
to all you have said. — Young men and old men 
see things so differently, that I cannot pretend even 
to guess what your father will say to this : — I know 
that he has, as you observe, partly set his mind 
on your marrying Miss Twist, and every body 
else, I can safely say, expects it. — You think 
otherwise, but it is foolish to fancy, that though 
you are heir to a title, three hundred thousand 
pounds are ignominiously to be rejected. — I know 
perfectly w r ell that they are at your command. — 
One word from yourself might for ever unite these 
two noble and contiguous estates. — I am afraid you are 
weak, though I confess you appear strong. — Your 
mouth speaks wisely, but I fear your heart judges 
foolishly." — " My dear Sir," says I, M say not this, 
till you know more :" — " I wish to know more," 
says lie, " I wish to know all — I should wish to 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 207 

know, (but there I am sure I shall be disappointed) 
I should wish to know how and where your heart 
is engaged :" — " Sir," says I, u you shall not be 
disappointed ; — I will tell you fairly and openly: — 
Miss Mandeville is the person I wish to make my 
wife, if she will have me f — " if she will have you" 
says Mr. Hargrave ! " I suppose you pretty well 
know whether she will have you or not !" — " Sir," 
say I, " I do not :— I know no more of Miss Man- 
deville's private sentiments than yourself, but I 
will marry her if / can ;" — " You speak boldly, 
young Gentleman," said Mr. Hargrave, and, I 
must confess, he appeared angry, which I was 
sorry for. 

From this time we said little ;— he seemed to be 
absorbed in thought ; — for my own part, I felt re- 
lieved. We returned to the Hall ; and every thing 
seemed, for several days, to proceed as usual.— My 
father had been obliged to go to London, and, of 
course, nothing could be done till his return. — I 
kept a good deal to myself. — Mr. Hargrave often 
came to me, but always seemed to behave with 
much reserve ; — he even ventured, one day, to 
speak slightingly of the Mandevilles, so as almost 
to excite my indignation. 

At length my father returned from London, and 



208 THINKS-r«TO-MYSELF. 

I knew that in a few days every thing would be dis- 
closed:— one, two, three, and four days passed, 
before I observed the smallest alteration :— on the 
fifth day, I must confess, I perceived a difference : 
—my father, at dinner, instead of saying, — v What 
do you eat, my dear Bob V— said, « Robert, what 
do you eat?"— and sometimes, (though I think he 
was absent,) called me Sir.— On the sixth day, 
however, the dreadful business came out : — Mr. 
and Mrs. Twist called at the Hall ; my father sent 
for me, and I excused myself : — as soon as they 
were gone, he came up to my room : I saw plainly 
he was agitated: — "I suppose, Sir" says he, 
" you think it a trifling thing to make fools of your 
parents ;" — " by no means, Sir/' says I, * so far 
from it, that I can solemnly declare, nothing would 
go nearer to break my heart, than to be compelled 
to do any thing that would really distress either my 
father or my mother." My father looked rather 
surprised and overcome, and I really pitied him. — 
" You know," says he, " Robert, how much we have 
been led to think, and to hope, and expect, that an 
union would, one time, or other, take place between 
the Twist family and our's ; — our estates are conti- 
guous : — the joint property would be enormous, and 
no exphtce has been spared upon Miss Twist's edu- 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 209 

cation ;" — " Sir," says I, " I grant it all ;— but I do 
not like Miss Twist, and my heart is otherwise en- 
gaged :" — " otherwise engaged T says my father, 
" that is the worst of it : — I might reasonably have 
indulged you in a choice about Miss Twist, but to 
have gone and engaged yourself without consulting 
me, to a person quite beneath you, is such an act of 
disrespect and disregard that I cannot overlook it ¥' 
— " Sir," says I, "somebody must surely have told 
you that I have engaged myself to somebody quite 
beneath me, ^lse you would not have said it :" — ■ 
** somebody has told me so, undoubtedly," says my 
father, " and I do not scruple to say who, because 
he did not enjoin me any secrecy : — Mr. Hargrave 
it was that told me that you not only rejected Miss 
Twist, but that you had engaged your heart at least, 
if not your hand, to a person quite beneath your — 
" Sir," says I, " I wonder Mr. Hargrave should say 
so, but it is difficult to know friends from foes ;" — 
" Mr. Hargrave," says my father, <e cannot reason- 
ably be judged to be your^/be, because he has told 
me the truth ; they may be the best friends who do 
50 at any hazard :" — " Sir," says I, " I should not 
call Mr. Hargrave my foe, had he merely told you 
the truth, but when I hear that he has told you, 
that I have fixed my affections on a person quite be- 



210 THINKS-I-TO MYSELF. 

neath me, I think he has not told you the truth ;" — - 
" that may be, Robert," says my father, " as you 
happen to think ; a person may appear to Mr. Har- 
grave quite beneath you, whom you, in the extra- 
vagance of a foolish passion, may judge to be your 
equal ;" — " I cannot dispute that, Sir," says I, 
" but still my feelings may be acute upon the sub- 
ject, and I ought to be forgiven for fancying, at 
least, that the object of my choice is not quite be- 
neath me, as you and Mr. Hargrave seem disposed 
to believe ;" — " that she is really so," says my fa- 
ther, " I cannot but believe now, more than ever, be- 
cause were it not so, I think, before this, you would 
have been ingenuous enough to have told me who 
it was ;" — " has not Mr. Hargrave then, Sir," says 
I, " already told you ?"- — " by no means," says my 
father; " he has only informed me, (which I fear, 
will go nigh to bring my grey hairs with sorrow to 
the grave,) that it is some person quite beneath ijou ;" 
— " then, Sir," says I, " if you are really so pre- 
possessed, I almost feel as if I should scorn to name 
her :" — " you seem to speak proudly, young man," 
says my lather : — my heart, I must confess, was 
almost breaking all this time : never had my father 
since the day of my birth, addressed me in such 
distant terms ; — " Sir," says I, " not proudly but 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF, 21 1 

honestly ; — the woman I have chosen, is not in my 
estimation quite beneath me ; far, very far from it ! 
— and surely I should speak proudly indeed to call 
her so, if the contrary be the truth :* — " but why," 
says my father, " not boldly name her then at once ?" 
— " Sir," says I, '* if you challenge me to speak it 
boldly, your curiosity shall be satisfied : — Miss 
Mandeville, Sir, is the person , and I now scomto con- 
ceal it :" — my father ran to the window, and threw 
it up; — "Miss Mandeville" says he;—" Miss 
Mandeville, Sir," says I : — he walked up and down 
the room for some time, and at last turning to me, 
— " Robert," says he, " these are unpleasant meet- 
ings between father and son ; and as neither your 
feelings nor mine seem to be under due command,, 
we had better converse upon this subject another 
time :" — so saying, he gave me his hand, which I 
most reverently kissed, pressing it to my bosom ; 
— he quickly retired, and left me absorbed in grief. 
I remained alone in my room nearly an hour ;— 
at length, somebody knocked at my door ; — I opened 
it, and who should be there but Mr. Hargravei — I 
confess I shuddered at the sight of a man, who, I 
thought, had so cruelly betrayed me : — says he, 
" may I come in?"—" Certainly, Sir," says I : — " I 
am afraid," says he, " your father and you have 

p2 



212 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

had an unpleasant meeting ;" — " certainly, Sir," 
says I, " not the more pleasant from some cruel 
misrepresentations that I think have been made to 
him :" — " I suppose/' says Mr, Hargrave, " you 
mean that I did wrong in speaking of Miss Mande- 
ville as a person quite beneath you ;" — " I have no 
scruple, Sir," says I, " to assert that you did do 
wrong, because I avow it to be a gross violation of 
the truth. Why is a person of such parentage, and 
education, and singular worth as Miss Mandeville 
can boast, to be accounted beneath any man, merely # 
because she has not large worldly endowments ? — 
I feel, Sir, that you have done me an unkindness, but 
by her you have acted unjustly, and therefore dis- 
honourably : — my heart is full, Sir ! and for fear I 
should speak more disrespectfully, I wish you would 
have the goodness to retire ;" — but I could not get 
him to stir an inch : on the contrary, he seemed to 
look at me with a cast of countenance I by no means 
liked ; — there was a smile upon his face bordering 
upon ridicule ; — I could scarcely command my tem- 
per ; — when at last, to my utter surprize, he took 
me by the arm : — c< My young friend," says he, 
" how can you be so blind ?" — I knew not what he 
meant : — " Mine," says he, u is a curious situation 
to stand in ; — I have disobliged, it appears, both 



TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 213 

father and son, by the same act, for your father has 
treated me much like yourself— he has equally ac- 
cused me of deceiving him, and violating the truth 
by speaking so contemptuously of Miss Mande- 
ville /" — my heart seemed to revive a little, but I 
could not yet understand him : — " Shall I disclose 
to you/ 5 says he, ? the full scope of my intentions !" 
— " Sir," says I, " for God's sake do, for my pre- 
sent suspence is beyond every -thing painful." — 
" Then," says be, " listen to me patiently : — I have 
Ijeen long enough at Grumble thorpe to judge of 
the general aspect of things : — I have long seen 
that it is your father's wish that you should marry 
Miss Twist, in order to unite two estates lying so 
contiguous, and in order the better to support a title 
which he fancies is come to him, without any ad- 
ditional fortune, — I have seen also, of course, that 
the Twists have all wished it, and in my estimation 
done much to force and compel the match, without 
much regard to your private feelings : — it has been 
my endeavour, therefore, for some time, while I ap- 
peared to favour your father's wishes, (to which I 
owed every possible respect,) to ascertain, if I could, 
the exact state of your own sentiments, and I at last, 
as you kno^r, succeeded : — you explicitly told me 
all I could wish to be made acquainted with ; — 



214 THIN KS-t-TO-MY SELF. 

when I found that your views and your father's were 
so different, I confess, it occasioned me no small em- 
barrassment and sorrow, — for I love and esteem you 
both, to a degree that I shall not attempt to de- 
scribe ; — finding that your affections were really 
fixed on a person so truly amiable and respectable as 
Miss Mandeville, though without fortune or high 
connections, I judged it would be best, to awaken 
your father's fears as much as possible ; — even to 
run the risk of making him suffer real anguish and 
distress of mind, that when the actual truth came 
to be known, instead of being a disappointment, it 
might, in fact, be a great relief,— and I am truly 
happy to say, my plan seems to have succeeded ; 
for, though I still labour under the reproach of 
both, I am able to assure you that after the dread- 
ful suspicions and apprehensions your father had 
been led to entertain, the name of Miss Mandeville 
has appeared to him like the name of an angel: you, 
yourself, could not have more warmly resented, than 
he has done, the slur cast upon her character : — I 
must now return to him, and settle what I have 
thus put in train, and shall only stop to communi- 
cate one other circumstance, which is this : — that 
while I was at Edinburgh, and particu^rly during 
our wintry visit to Aberdeen, I was able to aseer- 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 215 

tain beyond all possibility of doubt, that an estate 
of more than £10,000 per annum, descends to your 
father with the title of Kilgarnock ; — it may cost a 
law-suit, if the parties are weak enough to contest 
it, but I am told they will not, if the papers I have 
examined and secured are known to be producible : 
— saying this, he left me, when I threw myself 
upon the bed quite exhausted with the conflict I had 
had to go through ; — I found means to exeuse my 
appearance at dinner, and heard no more of it, till 
•Mr. Hargrave came up to me in the evening. 

As soon as he came in, he took me by the hand ; 
— " Now," says he, " my dear boy, if you can suc- 
ceed with Miss Mandeville, every thing is settled 
here at home; — your worthy father seems only 
anxious to repair the injury he fancies he has done 
to Miss Mandeville, by treating her, though only 
for a moment, and while he was even ignorant of 
whom he was speaking, as quite beneath the no- 
tice of any man alive, he has commissioned me to- 
morrow, early to speak to her father about it; 
but I do not see myself, why you should not first 
in your own person, make known your attachment 
to her ; you are both young, and there's no hurry ; 
— if she should not happen to like you after all, 
she had better be left free to tell you so; — as you 



216 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

are quite able to marry her, the consulting her fa- 
ther first, would be running a risk, perhaps of oc- 
casioning some other sort of bias; — and if she 
should not happen to like you (which I think is 
improbable from what I have observed, but if it 
should be so,) her father may be spared a disap- 
pointment, by the business going no further; 
therefore, if you have no objection, I will propose 
it to yout family, that you shall be at liberty to 
make your own addresses, and, perhaps* we may 
have it in our power to produce another agreeable 
surprise, when we communicate the matter hereafter 
to Mr. Mandeville."- — I quite assented to what he 
said, continually expressing to him the sense I had 
of his most friendly interference. 

The next morning when I arose, every thing 
seemed to smile around me, my father, mother, and 
sister, received me at breakfast, as though I had 
been making sacrifices to oblige them, rather than 
exacting any sacrifices on their part, to gratify my 
own wishes ; — after breakfast my father took me 
aside for a few minutes : — " Bob," says he, " I 
hope we never shall have such another dispute as 
we had yesterday : — it is not my intention to renew 
it, but to satisfy my own feelings, I beg to say, that 
sooner than have wilfully spoken with any contempt 



TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 217 

of Miss Mandeville, I would freely have renounced 
the gift of speech for ever. — Whether you marry 
her or not, I must explicitly declare, that I most 
solemnly beg her pardon." — My heart was too full 
to answer; — he told me he believed it would be 
necessary for him to go into Scotland with Mr. Har- 
grove, to see after some property which he was con- 
vinced ought to come to him, with the title he had 
inherited, and which might, probably, be recovered : 
— " I hope/' says he* "it will do you no harm to be 
a little richer hereafter, if I thought it would, I 
would stay where I am, for ' there is,' as the wise 
King; of Judah saith, * a sore evil, rvhich I have seen 
under the sun? (and who indeed hath not?) ' namely, 
riches kept for the owners thereof to their hurt!" We 
Returned to the breakfast-room. 

My poor mother would, by this time, I believe, 
have freely resigned all the Kilgarnock honours 
and estates, she was so thoroughly disturbed at the 
thoughts of my father's going into Scotland, and 
without her: — she wished all the old deeds and 
papers that Mr. Hargrave had poked out of their 
lurking places, during his abode in Scotland, at the 
bottom of the sea, or, at best, like the poor complu- 
iensian manuscripts, (which will never be found 
again to settle any disputes) sold to a Rocket-maker; 



218 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

— she threw out many hints, that to go such a long 
journey upon the mere chance of recovering a dis- 
puted inheritance, when, perhaps, the very fatigues 
of the journey might prevent one's living to enjoy 
it, was, at best, a very foolish speculation; — in 
short, I verily think, that in her own heart, she 
would most willingly have relinquished, not only 
what had already come to us, but every acre of the 
Tay-and-Tumble property, aye, — and the earldom 
itself into the bargain, if it could have been had, 
sooner than that my father should have slept one 
night from home ; but such a long journey without 
her, was beyond every thing dreadful to her feel- 
ings : — " inns" she would say, " are so different 
from one's own houses, and chamber-maids are so 
careless, and there is such a hazard of damp beds, 
and you may have bad weather-, and the North is so 
much keener than the South, and it is such a horrible 
way off, and if you should be ill, who is there to 
nurse you, and how will you get back, and there's no 
medical man that you have any confidence in, and 
you may be detained longer than you expect, and 
have great vexation, and not succeed after ail, and 
so lose all your labour, besides the expence and trou- 
ble of your journey, and there is such robbing on the 
toady and those foot-pad fellows have got so despe- 



TH1NKS-1-TO-MYSELF. 219 

rate and cruel ;" — and thus would she run on, enu- 
merating such an endless catalogue of dreadful con- 
tingencies, that, for my own part, I almost won- 
dered that my father had the courage even to think 
of going : — I never, I must confess, in the course 
of my whole life, saw my mother so nearly in what 
the world calls a complete fret ; — but Thinfa-I-to- 
myself, " Honor es mutant Mores/' — that is, (ladies,) 
as one of the Mores archly replied to one of the 
Rutland family, who had slandered him by an ap- 
plication of the Latin to his particular elevation, 

<( Honours change Manners" — Till my poor 

mother became a peeress, she was the sweetest 
tempered woman in the world, but his going to look 
after the Tay-and-Twnble property , soured her sadly , 
at least for the time, 

I have no manner of doubt now, but that the 
very calmest and most dispassionate of my readers, 
is all impatience to know how I made love to Emily 
after the unqualified permission I had received from 
my Lord and Lady Kilgarnock so to do ; but, really 
and truly, making love is such a ridiculous business, 
especially where one is actually in earnest, that after 
writing it all out at length, fact after fact, just as it 
happened, taking up near forty or fifty pages, I 
have determined to strike it all out again, and not 



220 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

let you know a word about it : — besides, it was all 
managed so out of the common course of things, 
that I don't like any body else should learn my 
way of conducting those matters ; for if a Clodpok 
could succeed so well with it, what would the artful 
and designing make of it ? — I think I have done 
very handsomely to let you know so much about 
my bumpings, while the matter hung in suspence ; 
— I do not believe one lover out of a hundred, 
would so plainly have confessed to you, what odd 
feelings love produces. — I have no objection to tell 
vou, how it was all discovered to Mr. and Mrs. 
Mandeville, but first I must advert to other things. 

Mrs. and Miss Twist were for ever calling, you 
may be sure, after the arrival of the title, not to 
ask where it came from, so much as to take care 
where it should go to, and I think it would have 
done any body's heart good to have heard how 
Mrs. Twist did be-ladyship my poor mother: — 
The Honourable Bob had now received full permis- 
sion to be as little in this particular company, as his 
Bobship, in his discretion, should choose, so that 
as far as the common rules of civility would admit, 
J generally got out of their way : — I had, to the 
best of my abilities, so invariably slighted, rather 
than encouraged, the advances of both mother and 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 221 

daughter, that I felt no hesitation about the con- 
duct I was pursuing : — sundry engagements were 
proposed, but all in vain: — my mother indeed 
had a fair excuse, for declining them, while my fa- 
ther's journey to Scotland was in agitation. 

In the mean time, my visits to the Vicarage 
were frequent; — how frequent I won't tell you, for 
if I should, you will find out how long I was in 
gaining Emily's heart, which is a thing I don't 
want any body to know ; — for if it should seem to 
have been a very long job, you will think I was 
dull and stupid, and if it should turn out to have 
been a very short job, people that don't know my dear 
Emily, may fancy she was too willing and forward ; 
however, I believe, I promised to tell you how the 
whole business was made known to Mr. and Mrs, 
Mandeville, and so now you shall have it. — 

One day, in the month of February, (not far 
from the fourteenth,) Mr. Hargrave and myself 
called at the Vicarage, and found upon the table a 
heap of painted Valentines, which had been given 
to the young folks to send to their cousins, &c. — 
They were covered, as you may well suppose, with 
hearts, and darts, and cupids, and true-lowrs-hiots, 
and spite of one's teeth, brought love into one's 
mind : — Mr. Hargrave had much to say upon the 



222 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

subject, and filled up many of the papers for them 
with abundance of ludicrous verses, — all in the 
true cant style of those elegant compositions,— 
such as, — 

4X Haste, my love, and come away, 
This is Hymen's holiday." 



* * 'Tis your's this present to improve, 

It's worth depends on you; 
A trifle if you do not love, 

A treasure if you do." 

Which, by the bye, is almost pretty enough to 
send to any body, though it has been so hacked 
about, — but this don't signify : — I had got nothing 
but Valentine and love in my head when I came 
away from the house, but as J never had a spark 
of fun in me, I could do nothing but write very 
gravely upon it. On the morning of the four- 
teenth, I found means, (mind, I don't tell you how, 
but I found means, I say,) to have the follow- 
ing lines laid upon Emily's pillow ; — if any-body 
should say, close to her damask cheek, I can't 
help it : — as I had a pretty knack at drawing, I 
ornamented it with a rich wreath of roses, entwined 
with certain other flowers, famed for their close 
connection with such exploits, such as love and 
idleness, heart's ease, ladder to heaven, lords and 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 223 

ladies, love in a mist, none so pretty, true love of 
Canada, and bachelors buttons; — I would have 
every body begin to cry, the lines are so truly pa- 
thetic : — if they don't serve to convince you that I 
was sincerely and deeply in love, you have no feel- 
ing at all 5 you are a block of marble, and have no 
business to read them. 

I dare say, you'll think they'll never come ; — - 
well, here they are then :— 

What is a Valentine?— Amelia? — say; 
Is it a lover of a single day ? 
Is it a trifler who with flame and dart. 
Of painted paper , seeks to win your heart? 
Is it the favourite of a morning glance, 
Met with by accident, and seen by chance? 
If so, J am not one to serve } r our turn, 
With no false flames or ardour do I burn; 
In no fictitious sorrows do J deal, 
It is no plaything passion that I feel ! 
Device I've none, my tenderness to prove, 
Without Device, in sober truth I love ! 
In short, though much T wish that I were thine, 
I cannot wish to be your Valentine; 
To love, and be beloved, for one sliort day ! 
I wili be Your's for ever /—if I may !— 

Now let the verses be bad or good, it plainly 
amounts to a regular offer ;— I don't believe that 
any of the lines are an inch too long, or too short, 



224 THI'NKS-I-TO-MYSE-LF. 

but if they were, it would be wicked to alter 
them, for they are really genuine ; they came, be- 
sides, from the heart, not the head, and the heart 
won't be put out of its way by your dactyls and 
spondees; — besides, it did the business, and that's 
enough ; for, as soon as ever the breakfast at the 
Vicarage was ovet, up comes Mr. Mandeville 
again, not to me, but to Mr, Har grave. 

" Mr. Hargrave," says he, " I must desire that 
you will, as soon as possible, interfere to put an 
end to these things. — It is not long since I endea- 
voured, myself, to hint, as plainly as I could, to 
Mr. Dermont, that I could not suffer my daughter 
to receive any attention from him, beyond such as 
might pass between two old play-mates : — I trust, 
it is an act of indiscretion only : — and therefore, I 
beg of you, peremptorily, to put a stop to it : — 
Emily is a good girl, and I don't like that she 
should be made to fall into a mistake that may be 
fatal to her happiness : — she is very young, and 
cannot be supposed to know so well as I do, how 
impossible it is, that she should ever become the 
wife of Mr. Dermont ; It is my business therefore 
to piloted her : — I beg you will return this copy of 
verses to Mr. Dermont, and tell him, how sorry I 
should be to forbid him coming to a house, which, 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 225 

on every other account ought to be most open to 
him.— Mrs. Mandeville is quite as much distressed 
about it as myself, and therefore it must be put an 
end to," — " I will certainly do it," says Mr. Har- 
grave, " if you desire it :" — " I do desire it most 
earnestly" says Mr. Mandeville ; " only put your- 
self in my situation, Mr. Hargrave, and I am sure 
you will see the propriety of my conduct ;" — " My 
dear Sir," says Mr. Hargrave, " you have fallen 
upon the only difficulty that embarrasses me ;— 
I do put myself in your situation so completely, 
that I scarce know why I am to act as you tell 
me. — Being of the same profession, I must have 
some feelings in common with you, of course. — 
I am not married, to be sure, nor am I a father, but 
upon such an occasion, I cannot help fancying that 
I am both; — and therefore, though I promise to 
do w 7 hat you desire, if you urge it, yet I confess, 
that I think Mr. Dermont is almost old enough to 
judge for himself, and I hope wise enough to 
judge discreetly, even in a concern where many 
certainly do blunder and mistake ; — I feel for him, 
certainly, but I can feel for others too, and I 
will frankly declare, that if I were the father of a 
daughter, as beautiful, and (what is ten thousand 
times more) as virtuous and as well brought up as 

Q 



226 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

your's, I should think her worthy of the greatest 
man in the realm, if he chose to fix his affections 
upon her ;" — ' ' This may all appear very kind, 
Mr. Hargrave," says Mr. Mandeville, " and very 
complimentary, but I am not such idiot as to fancy 
we live in a golden age ; — when virtue and goodness 
are to be reckoned of so great account as wealth 
or family ; — if you will produce me a single instance 
of a poor, but very virtuous woman, or of a poor, 
but very worthy man, without great connections, 
being very cordially received into any noble family, 
then I should be more easy, because I have no 
hesitation in saying, that I firmly believe, that if 
any individuals of the nobility are capable of such 
true greatness, Lord and Lady Kilgarnock are the 
very persons ; — but, since the current of things, in 
general, is so contrary, I will not do them so great an 
unkindness as to expect it of them ; — I had rather 
run no risk; — I wish Mr. Dermont happy, but I will 
not have my daughter exposed to the chance of 
being rejected, besides other disappointments." 

" Lord Kilgarnock/' says Mr. Hargrave, " has 
really an high opinion of your daughter, Mr. Mande- 
ville ;"— *< Sir," says Mr. Mandeville, " it cannot 
be otherwise if he knew her only half so well as J 
do, but Lord Kilgarnock knows better than to choose 



THINKS-1-TO-MYSELF. 227 

her for a wife for his son /" — " I see," says Mr. Har- 
grave, " it is vain to ague the matter with you, 
Mr. Mandeville, and I must be really under the 
necessity of returning this paper to Mr. Dermont, 
though I know I shall run the risk of disturbing 
him greatly in doing so;" — "if, Sir," says Mr. 
Mandeville, (with much warmth,) "you are so 
afraid of disturbing his feelings, give it back to me, 
and / will put it into his own hands, to be sure 
of it:" — "you mistake me, Sir," says Mr. Har- 
grave, " I think Mr. Dermont is really and sincerely 
attached to your daughter, and that this paper 
contains no untruth; 9 — <e then, Mr. Hargrave," says 
Mr. Mandeville, " if that be so, it behoves you 
the more to interpose, to save your pupil from a 
disappointment, as well as my child from what 
may be still worse ;"— u I see, Sir," says Mr. Har- 
grave, " you are getting extremely warm, and I will 
argue with you no longer ; — I can only say, I will 
not return this paper to Mr. Dermont ; — he sent it 
to Miss Mandeville, and it is therefore her y s ; — but 
you tell me, Mr. Mandeville, that Mrs. Mandeville 
suffers much about it, pray then, Sir, present my 
compliments to her, and tell her, that if she can 
but bring herself to consent to its being a match, I 

Q2 



228 THINKS-1-TO-MYSELF. 

have fully secured that of Lord and Lady Kilgar- 
nock; — you ask me, Mr. Mandeville, to produce 
but one instance of a poor (I mean unendowed) but 
virtuous young woman, without high connections, 
being cordially received into a noble family, and I 
now produce one : — Lord and Lady Kilgarnock, so 
far from being averse from this match, would resent 
nothing more, than to be thought insensible of Miss 
Mandeville s worth ; — you are now caught in your 
own trap ; — you cannot now refuse to return this 
paper to Miss Mandeville; — I think she values it; 
— if she really does not, then J ivill promise you to 
take it back, but if she does; the business is settled, 
and I am proud and happy to tell you so." — Mr. 
Mandeville was greatly surprised, and not very 
capable of answering, which Mr. Hargrave per- 
ceiving, — " I wish," says he, " you would let me 
call upon you this evening, and I will talk to you 
more upon the subject; — at present, only deliver 
my message to Mrs. Mandeville.' 9 — So saying, (as 
he told me himself,) he almost pushed Mr. Mande- 
ville out of the house. In the evening he took care 
to go there in good time, and every thing was set- 
tled. — The next morning, as soon as my mother 
knew what had passed, she drove to the Vicarage, 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 229 

and had a long conversation with Mrs. Mandeville, 
much to the satisfaction, I verily believe, of all 
parties. 

But as it was now almost necessary to make the 
matter known, for fear the Twists should bewilder 
themselves too much, it became a great debate among 
us, how it should be made known, particularly and 
immediately, as it were, to them : — after various de- 
bates about it, in which my father proposed about ten 
different expedients, my mother, sister, and myself, 
probably as many, severally, and respectively, we 
ventured to mentioned it to Mr. Hargrave : — ^ My 
stars/' says he, " how can you have any difficulty 
about it? — I'll manage it directly !" — so he took his 
hat, and went straight to Mrs. Fidget ; — he pre- 
tended to be merely paying one of those delightful 
debts, called a morning visit, — and, in the course of 
conversation, as it were, introduced the subject as 
follows : — " I suppose you have heard the report 
that is about the country ;" — " report of what ?" 
says Mrs. Fidget : — <( I am sorry for poor Miss 
Twist," says he !— " Miss Tivist," says Mrs. Fid- 
get, " what of her V " Upon my word," says Mr. 
Hargrave, " I ought not to have mentioned her 
name : — I cannot think how I came to mention it, 
— pray dorit say a word about Miss Twist, — only I 



230 TH1NKS-1-TO-MYSELT. 

thought it might concern her;"—" What might 
concern her?" says Mrs. Fidget.— " The report, I 
mean/' says Mr. Hargrave ; — " What report ?" says 
Mrs. Fidget.— " Why, that Mr. Robert Dermont 
is going to marry Miss Mandeviile ;" — " Miss 
Mandeville!!!" exclaimed Mrs. Fidget, and, as I 
am told, she lifted up her eyes and her hands so 
high, that they had like to have stuck there, and 
never come down again ; — " Miss Mandeville ! ! !" 
she repeated ; — " Yes, Miss Mandeville" says Mr. 
Hargrave, " but pray don't tell the Twists :" — " Not 
I" says Mrs. Fidget, " I would not tell them for the 
world:" " No, pray don't tell them" says Mr. 
Hargrave, " I quite dread their hearing of it ; — it 
would be quite cruel and unkind to acquaint them 
with it at all abruptly, for I am confident they tho- 
roughly expected him to marry Miss Twist " — 
" Made quite certain of it, you may depend upon 
it," says Mrs. Fidget with no small agitation ; 
" Therefore" says Mr. Hargrave, " they will, I fear, 
be sadly disappointed, and I should be sorry to be 
the first person to have even to hint it to them :" — 
" To be sure," says Mrs. Fidget, H they will be finely 
disappointed indeed! — I can't guess how they'll 
bear it ; — I pity those who will have to communi- 
cate it to thsmfitst, especially to Mrs. Twist, whose 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 231 

temper (between friends) is not the most governable 
one in the world; how she will conduct herself 
upon the occasion, I have no idea." — " I suppose, 
however, it won't be long," says Mr. Hargrave, 
" before they do hear of it, for though you and I 
could not Jin d a heart to tell them, Mrs. Fidget, yet 
I dare say, you know there are kind neighbours 
enough to be found, who would communicate it in 
all its circumstances as soon as they hear it." — 
u True, indeed," says Mrs. Fidget, " a secret of 
that nature is not long in travelling round a neigh- 
bourhood ;" — but she now began to be so restless, 
and so incapable of sitting still any longer, that Mr. 
Hargrave prepared to take his leave ; — " Pray re- 
member," says he, " my dear Madam, not to say 
a word about it to the Twists" — Mrs. Fidget called 
for her cloak . — " Pray let us, at least, keep the se- 
cret from them as long as we can." — Mrs. Fidget 
was very impatient for her bonnet and gloves : — " I 
should not however, wonder if they knew it by this 
time," says Mr. Hargrave, as he was parting from 
her, which so quickened the valedictions of Mrs. 
Fidget, that had she abruptly turned him out of 
the house, she could not well have more visibly 
shown how much she wished him to be gone .—at 
last, they separated ; — but scarcely had Mr. Har- 



232 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

grave reached the first stile, when, upon turning 
round, (not altogether by accident and undesignedly, 
but through a certain presentiment which the reader 
probably anticipates,) he saw Mrs. Fidget walking 
very much quicker than usual, and much beyond 
her natural strength, in the direction, as straight as 
a line could he drawn? towards Nicotium Castle, 
where she arrived, ready to drop, just about the 
time that Mr. Hargrave returned to the Hall. 

From the report that she very soon afterwards 
made of her visit, (for when done, nothing could 
exceed her care to have it universally known, that 
she was the identical person that first told the 
Twists the secret that so nearly touched them,) 
from her report, I say, it appeared, that Miss- 
Twist seemed little affected by it, but that Mrs. 
Twist had so little command of herself, that the 
moment she heard it, she exclaimed, with something 
very like an oath, — " Then, Ma'am, if it be so, Mr. 
Dermont richly deserves to be hanged !" — Thinks- 
I-to-myself, when I heard it, no doubt quite as 
much as Tom Dash himself, who shot the father of 
nine children for refusing to drink a profane toast ! 
—however the fact really was, — that Mrs. Twist 
undoubtedly felt in her own mind, that /thoroughly 
did deserve to be hanged : — not that she had a 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 233 

word more to allege against me (though all her 
neighbours, of course, were enquiring about it from 
morning to night,) beyond her ovm fancies and sus- 
picions. — " What, did not he make a formal offer 
to her V 9 says one.—" Didn't he make her a solemn 
promise ?" says another. — u Didn't he apply for a 
special licence?" says a third. — "Were not the 
wedding clothes ordered ?"'" says a fourth. — t€ No, 
indeed," says Mrs. Twist, " he made no offer, no 
promise, he applied for no licence, he ordered no 
clothes, but yet he richly deserves to be hanged for 
all that; — though, indeed, (she would generally 
add,) I am by no means sure that Mr. Twist would 
have allowed him to marry our daughter if he had 
made an offer, for he is but a mean looking youth 
after all, though he is to be a lord ; and his title, 
when it comes to him, is but a Scotch one, and of 
the lowest degree of all, as I have been told ; and 
Mr. Twist, I know, is resolved, in his own mind, 
never to let Grizilda marry below such a lord, as will 
make our grand-daughters ladies !" 

" I wonder," says Mrs. Fidget, (I heard this from 
another of her neighbours, who promised not to say 
a word about it,) " I wonder," says she, " Mrs. 
Twist, that you can call him ' a mean looking youth ? 
— I have always particularly though t^ myself that, 



234 THINKS-1-TO-MYSELF. 

independent of his title, his person and talents were 
quite sufficient to recommend him to any youno* 
woman, rich or poor, noble or ignoble ; — besides, 
the estates are so contiguous, that no match could 
have been so suitable and desirable, it must be con- 
fessed, and as for his barony, he might easily, with 
such a fortune as they would have had together, 
have been made an Earl, or a Marquis, or perhaps 
a Duke! — Who knows? — I was sadly afraid it 
would vex you, and therefore was very loath to come 
and tell you; only I thought you would rather 
hear it first from a friend, than from any more in- 
different person ; — if it were at all a doubtful mat- 
ter, if there were still the least chance of his marry- 
ing your daughter, I should have waited patiently, 
and, on no account, have run the risk of disturbing 
your feelings unnecessarily, but I had it from the 
very first authority, from Mr. Hargrave himself, 
indeed, who came to me so full of it, and seemed to 
pity poor Miss Twist so much, that he could talk of 
nothing else all the while he was with me." 

'I Pity poor Miss Twist, indeed ! ! !" says Mrs. 
Twist. " I do beg and intreat that he will keep his 
pity to himself; — pity Miss Twist! — pity our 
daughter ! ! — pity the heiress of these wide domains, 
because she is not to marry a poor Scotch baron ! ! 



TH1NKS-L-TO-MYSELF. 235 

— poor, I may well call him, for I am told, he gets 
nothing with his title but his great grandfather's 
picture, and a family watch ; — pity poor Miss Twist, 
indeed! ! ! — I wonder, Mrs. Fidget, you could suf- 
fer such alow fellow to talk so in your presence." — 
" Indeed, my dear madam," rejoins Mrs. Fidget, 
" I did not feel inclined to stop him, because he 
seemed truly and most sincerely to feel for the cruel 
disappointment your daughter, (as he thought,) was 
about to suffer, else indeed, I should have thought it 
impertinent, as you say, for such a low man to 
have pretended to pity your daughter ; for, though 
I believe him to be a good man in his way, eveiy 
body knows undoubtedly, that some of his ances- 
tors were no better than dealers in drugs, that is, in 
snuff, or tobacco, or some such filth !" 

Thus did these two amiable ladies, as I am in- 
formed, conduct themselves towards each other, 
upon this memorable occasion. Mrs. Fidget never 
rested talking about it, till it was known all over 
the country ; and the more Mrs. Twist scorned to 
be pitied, the more Mrs. Fidget insisted upon feeling 
for her. 

Miss Mandeville was now a frequent guest at 
the Hall, and my father and mother seemed to get 
every day more fond of her. Captain Charleville 



236 THINKS-I-TO-MYSEJLF. 

was also continually with us, so that we made a 
large family party. My father's journey to Scot- 
land, however, seemed to become every day more 
inevitable, so that my poor mother was very low, 
and little capable of enjoying herself so much as 
would otherwise have been the case. 

Mr. Twist appeared to be too much engrossed 
with his dogs and horses, to care much about the 
business. — On one account he was rather glad than 
sorry, at the course of things, namely, because it 
produced a greater shyness than ever between his 
family and the Mandevilles, so as to render it highly 
reasonable in his opinion, that he should totally and 
entirely give up going to church, which he had cer- 
tainly never done hitherto, except as a sort of com- 
pliment and condescension to the family at the Vi- 
carage ; — he now easily determined in his own mind, 
that his vists there might be altogether dispensed 
with, and that henceforth, without the smallest let 
or hindrance, Sunday might be quite as much his 
own as any other day in the week ; — this gave him 
great content ; — " Bob Dermont may have all the 
sermonising and psalm-singing to himself, now" 
says he, " for me ; — Fll let him my whole pew for 
sixpence a year, and give him all the prayer books 
and hassocks into the bargain : — they are none of 



THINKS-I-TOMYSELF. 237 

your old, rotten, indented, worm-eaten commodities, 
I promise you, but all as good as new, though they 
have been there these ten years ; — knee never 
touched one of them yet, to the best of my know- 
ledge, saving and excepting, perhaps, Saint Wat- 
son's ;" — (meaning the Governess;) — and I fancy 
indeed Mr. Twist was perfectly correct ; for the 
truth is, — they generally sat close up in the dif- 
ferent corners of the pew, engaged in reading novels, 
sleeping, or making fun of all that was going for- 
ward ; — I must say, however, they had the decency 
to sit up so close in the corners, that nobody could 
see what they were about ; — neither the parson, nor 
the clerk, nor the churchwardens, nor the sexton, nor 
one of the singers, nor any of the people up in the 

gallery :— in fact, only GOD ALMIGHTY ! ! ! 

Thinks-I-to-myself, — possibly, HE saw them all the 
while ; — in the church, and out of the church, most 
likely ; — in the corners of the said pew, as much as 
in the very middle of it ! 

Twist's common practice was to keep Sunday for 
travelling. — The road on that day, he would say, was 
so unincumbered with carts and waggons, that he 
was determined never to journey on any other day 
in the week but that, if he could possibly help it ; — 
and surely he was right ; for, certainly, waggons and 



238 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

carts, with the dust they make in summer, and 
the splashing they make in winter, and the cer- 
tainty of being always in the way, whether you 
meet them, or come behind them, are most intolera- 
ble nuisances ; — you may say what you will of their 
utility in carrying corn, or hay, or turnips, or carrots, 
into the metropolis, or bringing manure out of it, 
but it cannot be denied, that to such travellers as 
Twist, they are shocking impediments ; and I must 
take upon me to say, that any nobleman or gentle- 
man, who is as rich as Twist, and has as much com- 
mand of his time, and as much courage, cannot do 
better than adopt his plan : — double turnpikes need 
not stop such travellers : — I confess, I know no- 
thing that can render it at all objectionable, except 
the fourth commandment; that, I veiy well 
know, bids us " to keep holy the Sabbath day," 
and not only to do no manner of work in it our- 
selves, but not to let our sons, or our daughters, or 
our men-servants, or maid-servants, do any ; — no, 
nor our cattle, or even the stranger that happens to 
be within our gates ; — but, since travelling implies, 
in the very definition of the word, a quitting of 
home, and, of course, all the relations above enu- 
merated, whether the commandment can possibly be 
intended to prevent our compelling, or bribing, or 



THINKS-1-TO-MYSELF, 239 

seducing other people's so?is and daughters, men-ser- 
vants, and maid-servants, cattle, and strangers, to 
work on the Sabbath, nay, to do any manner of 
work that the rich may choose to call upon them 
to do, I leave to be settled and determined by all 
those who may wish and desire to avail themselves 
of the convenience of an unincumbered road. — I 
confess, I have often considered the point myself, 
and shall candidly confess, that I think not ! in- 
deed I am so much persuaded of this, that rich as 
I now am, I actually never dare to travel on a Sun- 
day, except in a case of absolute and indispensable 
necessity : — so far, I must confess, our neighbour 
Twist was a man of more spirit and resolution than 
either my father, or myself; — he did not seem to 
care a fig for the fourth commandment, and there- 
fore stood upon no sort of ceremony about violating 
it, not only by encouraging and promoting all the 
unhallowed work I speak of, robbing and depriving 
men, cattle, and strangers, of the rest God would 
have given them, but by keeping the Sabbath as 
UN-holy as he could keep it, and tempting and 
forcing others continually to do the same. 

There was another thing of which Twist was ex- 
ceedingly fond : — I mean betting upon all sorts of 
events: — I have already mentioned his bet with 



240 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF* 

Lord ■ , on Bob Gubbins and Big Beelzebub : 

— if any-body had but offered him the wager, he 
would have betted, I make no doubt, that he would 
find " a camel" that would " go through the eye of 
a needle ;" — and indeed I wonder, that among the 
many bets sought out and invented, by the sporting 
and gambling speculators of the day, this has never 
been attempted ; — for, should it ever be attended 
with success, (the torture and agony of the squeezed 
camel need never stand in the way !) it would seem 
to follow, as a matter of course, that it would be 
quite as feasible for such sort of " rich" fellows as 
Twist and his associates, to get to Heaven ; — which, 
I am afraid, will continue as problematical as ever, 
if things happen to proceed just as they now do. 

Of matches against time also, (as they are called,) 
Twist was equally fond. — Now these are, compara- 
tively well enough ; — because, though perhaps in 
the course of every year a number of useful and in- 
nocent animals may get harassed and tormented out 
of their lives, yet there is no difficulty in determin- 
ing who wins and who loses ; — but, matches against 
eternity, (by which I understand all matches, 
that may, on account of the cruelty, profligacy, or 
folly attending them, be taken account of here- 
after,) are certainly very silly, because, for what 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 241 

we can ever know, in this mortal stage of our lives, 
the greatest winner may be the greatest loser after 
all ! Twist himself, absolutely killed two beautiful 
(and favourite!) ponies at this very work, and yet 
he thought he won ; — but, Thinks- I-to-my self per- 
haps, after all, he lost ; for, u the race is not always 
to the swift ;" — " there is a time to get, and a time 
to lose ;" — the merciful man doeth good to his own 
soul, but he that is cruel troubleth his own flesh." 

I am willing, however, to hope and believe, that 
Twist was not in his heart a professed gambler. A 
certain degree of self-delusion hid from his view 
both the profligacy and danger of most of his occu- 
pations and pursuits, but I am rather anxious to 
record it of him, that he was not, as I said before, a 
professed gamester. He would take a bet when of- 
fered, and he would play with those who were ac- 
customed to play, but he did not go out of his way 
to seduce the young and unsuspecting ; to take ad- 
vantage of the ignorant and unskilful; he did not 
go the length of wantonly making havoc of the peace 
of families — " wringing the heart of the fond wife, 
the helpless orphan, the aged parent, by effecting 
the rapid and instantaneous ruin of those to whom 
they looked for support and comfort." He was not 
such a villain as this amounts to. 1 have, on 

R 



242 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

the contrary, more than once heard him declare, 
that he would go far to save any youth from the 
snares that are laid for them at a gaming table, and 
to prevent their taking the first step into that gulph 
of horror and despair. A professed and systematic 
gambler he ever regarded as a wretch too base to 
be entitled to the common rights and privileges of 
society ; he knew, indeed, much of their disgrace- 
ful and pernicious habits and practices, having him- 
self nearly fallen a victim to their treacherous, se- 
ductive, and base arts in his early days ; a circum- 
stance which always appeared to have made a par- 
ticular impression on his mind, and which though 
it had not the happy effect of turning him away en- 
tirely from such irrational and hazardous pursuits, 
yet made him occasionally feel, and even tremble, 
for others who were not in the way to know (what 
he knew) of the barbarous deceptions, low cunning, 
and base designs of habitual gamesters, and how 
liable the young, the ignorant, and the unwary, are 
to be drawn into that sad vortex of dissipation and 
ruin. What a pity that he could not have gone a 
few steps farther, and seen the folly and corrupt 
tendency of his own mode of life, and that of most 
of his associates ; for bad example may, and often 
does, as effectually and as fatally take the young 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 243 

and unwary, by surprise, as the most premeditated 
design, or the most studied dissimulation. 

My father and Mr. Hargrave were now very 
soon to set off for Scotland ; to the great concern 
and regret of all the party : — no little boy going to 
school for the first time, could have more admoni- 
tions given him, by his mother, than my father re- 
ceived from mine, as the time for his departure ap- 
proached ; I had had a spice of the same myself 
when I went into the same remote country : — num- 
berless were the expedients endeavoured to be im- 
pressed upon his memory, how to ascertain to a 
certainty at every inn, whether the bedding or sheets 
were damp ; — purses were regularly and systemati- 
cally made up for highwaymen, for fear he should 
get shot, through any delay in the deliveiy of what 
they might be pleased to ask for ;— and the strong- 
est entreaties were made use of, to prevent his ever 
attempting to defend himself in case he should be 
attacked, for fear it might be misconstrued into wil- 
ful resistance ; — with a view to which, his pistols, 
which had been ordered to be got ready, were put 
back again a thousand times, my mother never 
being able to settle in her own mind, whether in 
such rencontres, the defence or exposure of one's per- 
son were most secure. 

s 2 



244 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

But the medicine chest with which he was pro- 
vided, was the most curious. — My father hated 
physic, — as well the use as the taste of it ;— he ge- 
nerally enjoyed an excellent state of health, and 
scarce knew the name of one of the diseases with 
which the bulk of mankind are tormented ; — but the 
medicine chest, which my mother's extreme care 
and anxiety had induced her to prepare for the 
occasion, would have led any one to think he was 
subject to all the maladies under the sun : as the 
gout had once been in his family, according to tra- 
dition, there was one whole compartment filled with 
medicines to cure that complaint in ease he should 
have it, and another w T ith medicines to bring the 
gout, in case he should seem to want it, and have 
it not ; — there was laudanum to put him to sleep, 
and emetics and stimulants to relieve and awaken 
him in case he should happen to take too much, 
and sleep too long ; — there were abundance of nos- 
trums to keep off infection, and just as many to 
cure it in case it could not be kept off; — many 
cooling preparations were added for fear he should 
ever be over-heated, and the like proportion of 
cordials and carminatives in case he should ever 
suffer from cold; — every powder, and packet, and 
bottle, and box, besides, being regularly labelled 



thiNks-i-to-myself. 245 

and marked inside and out, in a hand the most 
legible, for fear of any perplexity or mistake in the 
administration of the several remedies, — but my 
mother was not like other mothers or other wives ; 
such maternal and conjugal feelings as her's are 
now so out of vogue, that I expect no credit for 
what I have related : — yet so it was. — At last, the 
day came for their departure, and the heart-break- 
ing separation took place. 

Mrs. Mandeville was a great comfort to my mo- 
ther during my father's absence, the more so, un- 
doubtedly, from the new situation in which they 
stood connected with each other; — but she was 
certainly a most sensible and amiable woman, very 
different from most of our other neighbours. 

In the mean while Mrs. Fidget did all she could 
to set us against the Twists, as she had previously 
done all she could, to set them against us : and 
this upon the avowed pretence of being the parti- 
cular friend of both parties : — whatever Mrs. Twist, 
in her disappointment, happened to utter against 
us, Mrs. Fidget, out of her extreme friendship and 
regard, took care to repeat at Grumblethorpe, as 
quick as she could ; and every thing she saw pass- 
ing at Grumblethorpe, that she thought could at 
all tend to revive or aggravate Mrs. Twist's disap- 



246 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF, 

pointment, she was just as careful to make known 
as speedily as possible at Nicotium Castle : — " I 
suppose you have heard what Mrs. Twist says/' 
was the general bent of her conversation with us, 
and, " What a deal of love-making there is at the 
Hall," her continual remark at Nicotium Castle. 

I cannot help mentioning these things, because 
this sort of character is so extremely rare and un- 
common : — in the whole circle of your acquaintance, 
gentle reader, in town or country, in public or in 
private, I don't suppose you ever met with such a 
woman, as Mrs. Fidget ! her delight was to go 
from one house to another among her neighbours, 
purposely to report and communicate at each, 
whatever she knew to be most likely to occasion, 
distress and vexation ; and if there were a chance 
of any shyness or open rupture between any two 
parties ensuing from it, so much the better for 
Mrs. Fidgets — There was nothing too bad for her 
thus to convey from one neighbour to another. 
The worse indeed it was, so much the better for 
her : — she seemed indeed to be constantly making 
experiments how far one person could bear to be 
told, that another person thought her ajfoo/, or a 
devil, or old, or ugly, or mad, ox proud, ox peevish, 
or covetous, or artful, or hypocritical : — though she 



TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 247 

was careful enough to varnish over the communi- 
cation of any such pleasant piece of news with a 
certain affected laugh, which, though it might be 
intended to express her particular dissent, said, as 
plainly as possible, — " And sure enough I think it 
trueT 

It was thus, in this light airy sort of way, that 
is, that I was first made acquainted with the re- 
flection cast upon my Honourable person by Mrs. 
Twist, and to which I have before alluded : — " I 
suppose you know, Mr. Dermont," says she, 
" what Mrs. Twist calls you ; — I suppose you know, 
that she thinks you a ' mean looking youth/ ha, 
ha, ha, he, he, he, a mean looking youth in- 
deed! and 'poor into the bargain; 9 — she says, 
* you are to get nothing with your title, but your 
great grandfather's portrait, and a family watch ;' 
— but did you hear what she says of Miss Mande- 
ville, too : — she says, ' she looks, for all the world, 
like a lump of snow ; or a rice-dumpling, without 
any siveet-medit in it/ ha, ha, ha, fyc" 

I could mention a hundred other things to the 
same effect, in whioh the malice and ill-nature of 
this neighbourly friend, and friendly neighbour? 
were equally conspicuous, but really, such a cha- 
racter is so very outre, so entirely out of the com- 



248 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF, 

mon course of things, so perfectly contrary to one's 
ordinary experience of the ivays of the world, that 
I could not expect to be credited on my bare word, 
nay, surely not on my oath : — Who could possibly 
believe me, if I were to assert it ever so, that Mrs. 
Fidget, after trying all she could to set us against 
Mrs. Twist, could take the trouble of going ex- 
pressly to Nicotium Castle merely to tell the latter, 
how much she was surprized and grieved to find 
that she (Mrs. Twist) was not so great a favourite at 
Grumblethorpe Hall as heretofore ! I say, gentle 
reader, could you from your knowledge of the world, 
and experience of human conduct, ever believe, that 
any such malicious creature as Mrs. Fidget coidd 
exist ? and yet I declare I know this to be the fact, 
nay, and that she would have been very much 
hurt if any body had been before-hand with her ; 
that is, had got the start of her, in communicat- 
ing this friendly and most agreeable piece of in- 
telligence. 

Three days after my father had quitted us, my 
poor mother was made superlatively happy by re- 
ceiving a letter from him, to inform her that he 
believed he should not have occasion to go farther 
than London, for that his lawyer had had a letter 
from the parties in Scotland, to say, that in con- 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 249 

sequence of the information communicated to them, 
they should not attempt to contest the point; 
— that the documents that had been discovered, 
were, in all likelihood, too clear to be set aside, and 
therefore, that they were willing to have it 
settled by reference to counsel in London. — The 
ease was accordingly submitted to certain persons 
of the greatest eminence in Westminster Hall, and 
speedily determined, without a dissentient voice, 
in our favour. — In less than a fortnight, therefore, 
my father returned £10,000 per annum richer than 
when he went from us. 

It was ivell bestowed ; for he was a most munifi- 
cent, benevolent, charitable man : — if a fellow- 
creature stood in need of assistance, his purse was 
open : — he gave freely to the grateful and the un- 
grateful ; for I am sorry to say, there were many 
of the latter among those he benefitted : — the poor, 
in general, were extremely unthankful: — they 
would receive his bounty ; curtsey and bow, and 
thank him, when they met him, but always covet 
more, and do him damage without compunction 
or remorse : — he knew it as well as I do ; but, still 
he would give ; for, he would say, they know 
no better ; they have not been educated as we have 
been : — give, and it shall be given you again ;— if 



250 THIJNKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

not by those you serve, yet by God Almighty, 
which is far better security. 

It will be easily supposed, that occasionally we 
had among ourselves, much conversation and con- 
sultation about the approaching nuptials both of 
myself and sister:— all which, being matter of 
mere private concern and arrangement, I certainly 
need not trouble the reader with it ; — there were 
many other things also to be thought of; — I was 
not far now from being of age ; don't stare gentle 
reader ; I say I was now nearly of age : — " Tempus 
fugit," you know, or, in plain English, Time flies ! 
you may think what you please about the length 
of time most accordant wdth the order of events, as 
they seem to stand in this narrative, but I am al- 
most positive, that I must have been nearly of 
age, or, if not, that there is no great harm done 
by pretending to be so : — you will remember that I 
have never once told you how old I was at the be- 
ginning of this book, when Mrs. Fidget and the 
pug-dogs, paid their first visit at Grumblethorpe 
Hall, so that of course you dont know how old I 
was when I went to Scotland ; — nor can you tell 
exactly how long I was upon the road thither, tak- 
ing in the excursion to the Lakes : — then I remain- 
ed in Scoland, if you recollect, full two years, a& I 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 251 

took particular care to tell you, and returned from 
Scotland rather slowly : — then as to the time ex- 
pended in making love to Emily after I had permis- 
sion to do so, its exact duration has been purposely 
kept secret from you, so that I am well assured, 
that let your critical acumen be what it may, you 
have no fair right to dispute my being now nearly 
of age. 

As a most amazing entertainment was intended 
to be given at the sera of this joyous event, my fa- 
ther conceived that it would be well, if possible, to 
bring the two jubilees "together : or, as Mrs. Fidget 
would say, to " kill two or three birds with one 
stone;" — that is, that I should be married about 
that time, either a little before or a little after ; — 
and, if Captain Charleville and my sister should 
choose to avail themselves of the same opportunity, 
they were welcome to do it : — thus the whole busi- 
ness might rather resemble the rich Camacho's 
wedding in Don Quixotte, where Sancho Panza 
ladled up, if you remember, whole ducks, and 
chickens and sucking pigs at every dip into the pot ! 
and now I speak of Sancho Panza, my heart al- 
most aches to think I could not invite him to my 
wedding; — how delighted I should have been to 
have seen him there : — how I would have stuffed 



252 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF* 

him, his body, and his wallets too, with rarities 
and dainties, and all kinds of choice things ! — but 
enough of this. 

My coming of age led also to other things. — The 
title and estate that had come to my father had 
given him an influence in some of the Scotch Bo- 
roughs ; and he expressed to me his wish that I 
should be in Parliament : — Clod-pole in Parliament! 
Thinks-I-to-myself, was ever such a thing heard of 
as a Clod-pole in Parliament I ! — I actually did not 
reckon myself quite fit for it, and even ventured 
one day to tell my father so : — " Not fit for it," 
says he ! " surely you are as fit as this, and that? 
and t'other" whom he ran over with such a volubility 
of reckoning through the A's and B's and C's, quite 
down to Izzard, (I know not how many he enu- 
merated) ending unfortunately, with two or three 
of the Whip Club, against whom he had a parti- 
cular spite : — " Surely, my boy," says my father, 
" you are as fit to be in Parliament as such fellows 
as those /" I was always sorry, I confess, to hear 
him say so, of the Whip Club ; because it was 
one of the few prejudices he had that could be 
said to be at all unreasonable ; for I could never 
possibly agree with him about that particular asso- 
ciation of gentlemen; — I always supposed that 



THINKS-l-TO-MYSELT". 253 

it must be altogether impossible for any body to 
see those illustrious personages quit the metropolis 
in the way they are accustomed to do, at broad 
day, barouche after barouche, accoutred as 
exactly as possible like mail-coachmen, driv- 
ing THEIR OWN SERVANTS, &C &C &C — but 

they must be tempted to think at least, if not to 
say to themselves, (as I generally do) what useful, 
what wise, w T hat valuably what important, w T hat 
dignified, members of the state ! ! ! ! 

And now r I am upon this most interesting sub- 
ject, I cannot help adding that I still more admire 
the tandem Club, because those gentlemen must 
of necessity be better coachmen than any of the 
rest : — the four horses of a Barouche are so har- 
nessed and hooked together that in a great mea- 
sure they take care one of another, (if, indeed, 
they should all four happen to agree to run away 
at once, mercy upon all behind them ! not to men- 
tion all before them) but in a tandem, I see nothing 
to induce the leader to keep his course straight for- 
ward, but an address on the part of the charioteer, 
as nearly as can be supernatural ; for, if the fore- 
horse chooses to go to the right or the left on a 
sudden, he may plainly overset the carriage, before 
any creature upon earth sitting five yards behind 



254 THINKS-I-TQ-MYSELF. 

him, could be quick enough to bring him to his 
senses; especially if a pig, or a jack-ass, or a 
wind-mill, or a pack of gypsies, or a scissar-grinder's 
machinery, should stand in his way : and, for my 
own part, I think leaders of tandems are particu- 
larly apt to turn short round, on a sudden, in the 
way I describe; — numbers and numbers have I 
seen perform this manoeuvre, so suddenly and un- 
expectedly, that one would have sworn it must be 
done on purpose to confound the driver ; — and the 
assurance and impudence with which they do it, 
in some instances, is past all description ; staring 
all the while full in the faces of those in the carriage, 
as much as to say, I must have a peep at the 
fools behind that are pretending to manage me. 
It is, however, I must confess, a glaring contra- 
diction, that near-sighted people should drive Tan- 
dems, (I speak to Scholars ;) yet such things arc ! 
Heaven protect his Majesty's liege subjects ! — 

Well, I was to be in Parliament, as soon as a 
fair opportunity should occur. — I was to represent 
some six or seven Scotch boroughs, as (the famous 
Charley Fox once did,) and get acquainted with 
my constituents as I could. — Thinks- I-to-my self, 
this sounds odd: — but, yet, Why not? — Who 
knows all his constituents, or gets acquainted with 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 255 

them otherwise? — And, perhaps, I may be as 
competent to legislate for the empire at large with 
but few constituents, and little communication 
with them, as if I were to represent Westminster, 
or Middlesex, or London, and held an intercourse 
with them daily, in Taverns, or on Hustings, or 
from triumphal cars, or in Westminster Hall, or 
from the top or box of an Hackney Coach. I say, 
perhaps : I had rather of the two have few consti- 
tuents, and consider myself as representative of 
the nation at large, than a multitude of such whim- 
sical chaps, such odd friends of liberty, as would 
never suffer me so much as to think even to myself, 
any thing contrary to their particular whims and 
caprices, (nay, perhaps their local and personal 
prejudices,) and, unless I bowed down to them, with 
almost idolatrous worship, would be sure to pelt me 
with cabbage-stalks or brick-bats, dead cats ox dead 
dogs, rotten apples or rotten eggs ! — as to the real 
patriotism or genuine liberality of such chaps 
Thinks- I-to-my self, it is all a ! and a big 

BOUNCING ONE, tOO ! 

But, the minister, — the minister ; — he may have 
an undue influence over me ; — aye, so he may in- 
deed, and Thinks- I-to-my self, there can, to be sure, 
be no undue influence in a bludgeon ! — in hissings, 



256 THWKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

and hootings, and pelti?igs, and cat-calls, and pla- 
cards : — no ; these are mighty harmless, amiable, 
delightful helps to freedom of thought, and speech, 
and conduct : — Heaven bless the people who wish 
to call them into action every three years instead 
of seven! — Our Scotch boroughs are, at least, 
(Thinks-I-to-myself,) as well off as the minority in 
any popular election, who must, in the issue of 
things be contented to be represented, not only by 
a man not of their own choice, but by one who 
possibly has, by himself or friends, done all he 
could to exasperate and affront them ! 

But integrity, integrity ; — aye, there's the rub ; 
— integrity is every thing: — no corruption; — no 
place-men ; — no : — down with them all ! — integrity 
is the only qualification for a Parliament man : — 
come then, all you honest Tom Dashes, drive up 
to London ; — you honest country gentlemen that 
never breathed the corrupt air of a court, or a 
royal residence, or wished to get a step higher in 
the world ; — you are the people, the only people — 
yowhave no prejudices, no piques, no passions, no par- 
tialities, no professsonal bias, no pretensions beyond 
integiity ; — let trade take care of itself, — and the 
army, and the navy, and the church, and the law 
— you can make laws and statutes enough, no 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 257 

doubt, with your integrity, without any other aid 
or assistance whatsoever : — in truth, I believe you 
are, for the most part, honest and uncorrupt, and 
I ever wish to see a good number of you among 
the other legislators of the realm: — I wish too, 
that integrity may ever prove as powerful as it is 
judged by some to be, and perhaps it may, when 
the Millennium begins ; — then, I think, (but not an 
hour before,) honesty may really become the best 
policy, and (what is more to the purpose) the only 
policy wanted. 

I love reform as well as any : — I wish we were 
all reformed : — not merely the Parliament House, 
but you and I, and such folks as Mr. Twist, 
and Bob Gubbins, and Big Beelzebub : — and I 
love John Bull too ; — and I love him dearly, 
and I would have him always live at large 
in fat pastures, and with as little work as 
possible all the days of his life; only I wish 
him to be as good humoured and civil as he can be, 
and never to butt or bellow out of mere sulkiness, 
or pride, or wantonness, or ill-nature, or caprice, 
or solely for the sake of frightening harmless people 
out of their wits; — which I think, sometimes he 
has been rather inclined to do. 

Before the happy time came for my union with 
s 



258 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

Emily, Miss Twist picked up another lover, or ad- 
mirer, or whatever you may please to call him : — 
it was a young " Muster Dash;" — a dissipated 
profligate youth of fortune, nearly resembling, by 
all accounts, the most amiable and deeply-lament- 
ed Torn Dash, of sporting celebrity. — Mrs. Twist, 
I am told, was much hurt, when she first disco- 
vered that he had no chance of inheriting even a 
Scotch Barony, and grieved within herself, that 
after all, " our grand-daughters" stood a great 
chance of being plain Misses. — She ventured once, 
I am told, to remonstrate against it, but Miss 
sivore " shed have him, whether they would or no ; 
— she'd buy him ever so great a title if that were 
all." — They were continually riding out together? 
leaping hedges and ditches ; particularly directing 
their attacks against my poor father's fences, to 
revenge the insult, I suppose, which had appeared 
to have been put upon the young lady, by the heir 
apparent's cold neglect. — This trespass, how r ever, 
continued but a short time, for Nicotium Castle 
soon became an insufferable bore to these two 
Dashers, so that they worried Mr. and Mrs. Twist 
down to Brighton in the summer, and up to Lon- 
don in the winter; and then down to Brighton 
again, and from Brighton to Margate, and from 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSEtF. 259 

Margate to London again ; and from London to 
Cheltenham, and from Cheltenham to Bath, and 
from Bath to Cheltenham again; and so on. — 
Almost every Sabbath-day, they changed their 
place of abode. — The Twist property seemed to be 
going much as it came ; — that is, it appeared to 
be in a fair way of being dissipated like smoke; — 
so that Mr. Twist himself, at length began to get 
out of humour, and judged it not improper to in- 
terfere, before they all got ruined together; — he 
determined, therefore, at once, to break off the 
connection, and with the full weight of his pater- 
nal authority, even ventured to open his mind to 
his gentle and amiable daughter; that is, the 
lovely Miss Grizilda — he peremptorily told her 
the intercourse must be put an end to, and that 
she must consent to see " young Muster Dash" no 
more ! 

Upon this fatherly communication, the obedient 
and accomplished daughter burst out a laughing, as 
I am told, in his face, declaring, that she heeded 
none of his threats, for that they had been privately 
married more than three weeks ; which was the 
exact truth of the matter. 

[ As she was a minor, he at first vowed he would 
endeavour to set it aside, but at length relented, 
s2 



260 THINKS-I-TOMYSELF. 

and was reconciled. It would have been a great 
pity indeed, if he and " young Muster Dash" had 
quarrelled, for, in most respects, they were un- 
doubtedly " birds of a feather/ 9 and perfectly 
suited to each other. — Miss Watson had long be- 
fore been sent off; as soon as ever, that is, that 
Miss Grizilddi felt, (which was marvellously soon,) 
that she was herself come to years of discretion ! 

All these events luckily kept the Twists out of 
the country, while the preparations were making 
for Clodpole's wedding, as well as for the celebra- 
tion of his coming of age.— I was married just three 
weeks previously to the latter event, and my sister 
about a fortnight before it. — The fete that took 
place in consequence of these three great occur- 
rences, was certainly most splendid, costly, and 
magnificent :- — Oxen roasted whole; fountains of 
ivine and ale ; — bonfres upon all the hills ; — country 
gambols, &c. &c. &c. but, no cock-fighting; — no 
bull-baiting ; — no boxing ; — no cudgel-playing ; — 
no matches against time; — no ass-racing; — there 
was plenty of sport and amusement without these ; 
— eveiy thing was provided, in short, that coidd be 
provided, to make the rational part of the company 
merry, but nothing permitted that could make one 



TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 261 

individual, either of the rational or irrational crea- 
tion, miserable. 

And here I cannot help observing, that my father 
took delight; at all times to make the poor happy, 
provided they would consent to be made so in a 
reasonable -way ; — he never courted popularity by 
making them drunk, or turbulent, or saucy ; — he was 
a real friend to them, and not a pretended one ;— 
he never went among them, as many do, merely to 
urge them to be discontented with their condition, 
holding forth to them no other relief but the mere 
right of complaining ; he endeavoured, all he could, 
to do away every occasion of discontent and com- 
plaint, by administering to the quiet removal of 
every removable grievance, and teaching them at 
the same time, by his own example, patiently to 
bear all that were really not removable ; — he was 
not a democrat in the too common sense of the term ; 
that is, a mean man with a proud heart, who seeks 
only to pull down the great that he may be as great 
as any ; but he was a great man with an humble 
soul, (which I regard as the true democrat ;) — he 
always tried to elevate the low by such a demean- 
our towards them as might sink all worldly dif- 
ferences, and make them feel the only sort of equality 
which God has ordained, an equality of affection, 



262 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

friendship, and brotherhood. — The fete at Grumble- 
thorpe was conducted upon these principles, and 
these principles only : — there was no encouragement 
given to licentiousness, much less to cruelty or pro- 
faneness ; — yet as far as expense and munificence 
could provide " things lawful and honest" every 
man was made free, and every man welcome. 

So we were married ; and so I came of age : — 
and here my history had better, perhaps, be brought 
to a conclusion, for the marriage in such works as 
these, is generally like the falling of the curtain at 
the playhouse ; — however, I have a sort of Epilogue 
still to deliver, and then I shall make my final 
bow. 

My sister's match turned out as happily as my 
own, so that my worthy father and mother reaped 
the just fruits of all their kind care of us. — They 
had treated us like reasonable creatures from our 
infancy, and therefore we grew up to be such, and 
I trust have continued so ever since, and this has 
made the marriage state a happy dispensation to 
ourselves and our connections. 

Captain Charleville had been brought up much 
like ourselves, and Emily's education has been de- 
scribed.— Every accomplishment we severally pos- 
sessed, either of mind or body, was in its nature 



THIN KS-I-TO-MYS ELF. 263 

permanent :— we had been taught nothing frivolous, 
nothing fantastical; — nothing likely to go out of 
fashion, or become obsolete : personal accomplish- 
ments had not been neglected, nor amusements 
proscribed, but even these had been so managed 
and conducted, as to be subservient to the great 
end and object of our education, namely, the im- 
provement of our minds and intellects : we had 
learnt nothing superficially, or for temporary pur- 
poses ; whatever it had been thought necessary for 
us to learn, we had been thoroughly instructed in, 
and nothing had been judged necessary but what was 
likely to assist our judgments, to regulate our man- 
ners, to temper our passions, and to render us use- 
ful as well as agreeable to our fellow-creatures, from 
the beginning of life to the end of it. 
/ Miss Twist had, perhaps, been educated beyond 
any of us, as far as expense, and variety, and show I 
were concerned ; but almost every thing she had 
thus acquired was out of fashion by the time she 
got married, and quite so by the time she had a 
family; so that her husband was no better for it 
at all, and her children only so much the worse; 
for as show and variety were originally the prime 
objects of all her pursuits, the love of show, and the 
love of variety, never abated, so that fresh expenses 



264 THINKS-l-TO-MYSELF. 

continually became necessary to keep pace with the x 
follies and vanities of the day, till all the accumula- \ 
tions of the thrifty tobacconist at length dwindled > 
into nothing, and at this moment the Tivist stile ' 
no longer separates the two domains ; — the Nico- 
tium property came to the hammer several years 
ago, and Clodpole, after all, is in possession of the 
whole ! 

My being in Parliament laid us under a necessity 
of being more in London, than was quite agreeable 
either to Emily or myself. The fair face of nature 
had charms for us, which we looked for in vain in 
tire dark and dirty metropolis. — As far as we our- 
selves were personally concerned, we found no com- 
pensation in the noise and bustle of that enormous 
city, for the quiet retirement, and calmer pleasures 
of a rural residence. 

I fear I should be accounted dull and stupid to 
the greatest degree, nay, judged to be altogether of 
a mean and base spirit, were I explicitly to declare 
how much I do really prefer the one to the other. 
— I will even acknowledge that sometimes I have 
been almost ashamed to confess it to myself, fear- 
ing it could only result from a disposition to prefer 
nature in general to human nature; that is, inani- 
mate and irrational objects to my fellow-creatures ; 



THINKS-l-TO-MYSELF. 265 

for, while the country abounds with the former, it 
has ever appeared to me, that human nature may be 
said to have London to itself : — whoever, therefore, 
has but one spark of real philanthropy ; that is, 
whoever can bring himself to love man, merely as 
man, in preference to all other beings and earthly 
existences whatsoever, (which is, it must be con- 
fessed, the height of Christianity,) to whomsoever, 
I say, this can happen, London must needs be the 
very place in which he ought most to delight ; in- 
asmuch as, in all probability, that renowned city, 
take it all together, contains within it more of 
human nature, than any other corner of the globe ; 
— I mean, of genuine human nature, such as man 
really is, not by education, but spite of education, and 
every other restraint whatsoever, human or divine : — 
man, to be beloved as man, ought certainly to be seen 
and known in London, because there he may be seen 
in almost every possible situation, and under every 
variety of character, and therefore, if he does really 
deserve to be loved as he ought to be, or in other 
words, as our holy religion enjoins, where can we 
expect to be better satisfied and convinced of his 
matchless and extraordinary perfections, than in 
that general receptacle and resort of the species at 
large;— therefore, it is, that I grieve to say, that 



266 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

after numberless efforts to the contrary, I still seem 
to prefer nature at large : — Thinks-I-to-myself, there's 
rather more appearance of order, of harmony, of 
beauty, of utility, of virtue, of innocence, in the view 
of almost any country district, than of the most 
thronged, crowded, populous, busy part of London ! 

This, I conceive, to be a genuine Thinks-I-to-my- 
self: — I don't suppose any body ever thought the 
like : — I scarcely, indeed, dare avow so singular a 
prejudice : — I am, in fact, ashamed of it altogether, 
and would give the world to get rid of it, because, 
at all events, London is a very useful. place, and 
the difference between town and country is, it must 
be confessed, so palpably in favour of the former. 

fOften am I tempted to say, as I traverse the 
streets of London, on a fine spring morning, why 
cannot I be contented, as so many thousands are, to 
enjoy the bright beams of the sun, as they are dimly 
reflected from the surface of, that long range of 
buildings of dingy brick work, the habitations of 
man ; spending all their vivifying force on the su- 
perficies of this delightful stone pavement, on which 
so many lords of the creation are delighted to tread, 
instead of wishing rather to behold that wonderful 
luminary, enlightening, unrestrained, (that is, in a 
careless, loose, and rude manner,) a mere vulgar ex- 



THINKS-1-TO-MYSELF. 267 

pause of rural scenery, mountain and valley, hill and 
dale, wood and wilderness, dispersing its rays abroad, 
to cheer and revive seldom any thing better than 
mere birds and beasts, herbs and trees, to ripen 
the fruits of the earth, or adorn the flowers of the 
field? 

Surely, Thinks-I-to-myself, it ought to be far 
more gratifying, if I had but a just notion of the 
pre-eminence and dignity of man, to see it insinuat- 
ing itself with such modesty and humility, and 
such deference to the multifarious restrictions im- 
posed on it, into the cracks and comers, and narrow 
passes of the crowded metropolis ; making its way 
with such eager anxiety, as it generally seems to 
do, though continually turned out of its direct 
course, into its numerous streets and squares, lanes" 
and alleys, courts and passages, shops and shambles ! ! 

The dignity and proud pre-eminence of as human 
creatures cannot, I think, be placed in a higher 
point of view, than by the marked subservience of 
this glorious luminary in this particular region of 
the globe : — though there is no place on the face 
of the whole earth in which it is more scurvily 
treated by man, woman, and child, it yet never 
wantonly turns away its beams ; — it rises many 
many hours before there is any-body awake or in 



-• 



268 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

motion to be enlightened by its rays, and submits 
to be put out of countenance by the preference al- 
most universally given to wax and tallow candles ; — 
it submits to shine only by reflection and refraction, 
seldom in full lustre into any one street of the me- 
tropolis ; and if it ever does appear in person to the 
astonished eye, it is most commonly not in its ut- 
most glory, but more like a dark red ball shorn of 
its beams, not near so bright as one of those enor- 
mous show bottles in a Chemist's shop, that so often 
dazzle and confound your eyes^ as you traverse 
the streets at night. 

I know not where the sun receives more mark- 
ed insults than in London, either in the way of 
neglect, or interruption, or open contempt of its 
use and importance in the system of things : the 
moon, poor thing ! is not worthy of a thought ; — 
though Queen of the Night, which latter has more 
votaries in London than any-where else, all the 
honours are transferred to the one without the 
smallest care or concern being expressed for the other. 
— Thinks-I-to-myself there are other queens of 
the night at London ! 

It is a pity but the sun and moon could be per- 
suaded to leave London to itself, and bestow such 
portions of their light as are thus uselessly spent 



# 



THINKS-l-TO-MYSELF. 269 

upon the metropolitans, to the greater accommoda- 
tion of the country folks : — the latter alone, in fact, 
seem to be duly sensible of the great and particular 
benefits to be derived from these two great lights of 
Heaven ; made originally, (as I have read,) the Sun 
to rule the day, and the Moon to rule the night ; 
an ordinance which Londoners have thought pro- 
per to reverse, so that generally and for the most 
part, the night of a Londoner falls under the do- 
minion of the sun, and the day of a Londoner under 
the dominion of the moon : — Is it not so, Sir ? — Is 
it not so Madam ? — Is it not so, Miss ? — Speak out 
honestly. 

Not that all London, perhaps, is ever asleep at 
the same moment ; — as there are plenty of disturb- 
ers, so there are probably plenty of disturb-^, at all 
hours ; — sweep ! and dust ! — hare sheens! and rob- 
bit -sheens ! — and ould clouthes! no doubt often, at 
the daw r n of day, interrupt the very commencement 
of many a belle's repose, just returned from the ball, 
or assembly, or masquerade! but let these reflect 
in their turn : how many honest, industrious, hard- 
working citizens, the rattling of their carriages may 
have robbed of the end of their repose, at hours still 
more unreasonable, more precious, and more allow- 
edly dedicated to Morpheus. 



270 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF 

And now I have alluded to these things, I can- 
not help mentioning another strange and unaccount- 
able prejudice which I could never shake off, though 
so necessary to my comfort, during my attendance 
in Parliament : — instead of being cheered and ex- 
hilarated, as others generally are, by the sweet 
sounds that are continually saluting you in London, 
such as the rattling of coaches just mentioned, the 
rambling of carts, the cry of sprats and mackrit, 
muffins and crumpets, dust O, sweep O, milk-below 
maids, and other such melodious strains, I could at 
any time have found greater delight in the dull 
warbling of larks or linnets, black-birds or night- 
ingales, and other rural noises, such as — 



" The wild brook babbling down the mountain side, 
The lowing herd, the sheep -fold's simple bell ; 
The pipe of early Shepherd dim descried 
In the lone valley ; echoing far and wide 
The clamorous horn along the cliffs above ; 
The hollow murmur of the ocean-tide; 
The hum of bees, and linnet's lay of love, 
And the full choir that wakes the universal grove." 

There must naturally be something so much 
more noble and important in the " busy hum of men," 
than in the u busy hum of bees," or any other in- 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 271 

ferior animal, that I am almost ashamed to acknow- 
ledge such base prepossessions. 

It is often said, and oftener perhaps thought of 
London, as of Paris in old time, that the very air 
of the metropolis, is necessary to the improvement 
and perfection of any talent we may happen to pos- 
sess : — that those who have not visited the capital, 
cannot be expected ever to excel in any art or 
any science, — upon which I can only say, what has 
been already said also in the case of Paris alluded 
to, namely, that this is indeed very likely to be 
true, since, undoubtedly, the air of London must 
needs be a very particular air ; — not any of your 
mere simple, uncompounded, insipid fluids like the 
air of the country, but evidently and palpably con- 
sisting of an immense variety of substances most 
curiously blended and mingled together ; — London, 
as well as Paris, may reasonably be considered as 
one vast crucible in which divers meats and fruits, 
oils, wines, pepper, cinnamon, sugar, coffee, (this for 
Paris, you may add for London,) coal-dust, and 
coal- smoke, brick- dust, mud, the steam of a thousand 
breweries, the fumes and vapours of ten thousand 
gin-shops, &c. &c. Sec. &c. are daily collected, the 
stomachs and lungs of the inhabitants being the 



272 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

furnace by which these various ingredients are 
again decomposed. 

(It must be evident to all capable of considering 
the subject but for one moment, that the more sub- 
tile and volatile parts of everything, in the while 
town, capable of decomposition, must be every mo- 
ment flying off and incorporating themselves with 
the air we breathe ! what smoke ! what flames ! 
what a torrent of vapours and exhalations ! 

I need not pursue this matter further : — the hint 
is sufficient to enable any person in full possession 
of almost any one of the Jive senses, taste, touch, 
smell, sight, or hearing, to swell the catalogue, as 
well as to enlarge his own ideas of the very extraor- 
dinary nature and component parts of a London 
atmosphere. 

How can we be surprised if it work effects not to 
be looked for elsewhere : — who can wonder that 
the genius should be brighter, the brain clearer, the 
senses more acute ; the faculties (not to mention 
the virtues) of the soul improved, in an atmosphere 
subject to such curious compositions and aecomposi- 
tions, sublimations, fermentations, elective attractions, 
precipitations, &c. &c. &c? 

There is nothing on which it appears to have a 



THINKS-1-TO-MYSELF. 271 

more powerful and wonderful effect, than on the 
human voice, — The energies and operations of which 
have here a value which would exceed all belief, if 
it were not capable of being verified by an appeal 
to facts notorious to the whole world : — I do not 
mean to speak of the little trumpery profits of those 
who hawk and cry their commodities about the 
public streets, {though to my soft ear, so wonder- 
fully sonorous are the voices of the very gentlest of 
those gentle orators, that they seem, most of them, 
to possess the ffty-f old faculties of a Stentor ;) nor 
do I mean to speak of the popular preachers in the 
several chapels in London, regular or irregular, 
(though, for what I know, many of them may be 
admired, and paid more for the sound than for the 
sense they utter ;) — nor do I mean to speak of the 
profits of the gentry of the long robe, (though I have 
heard it rumoured that some are frequently reward- 
ed more for what they say, than what they think ;) 
— nor do I mean to speak of my brethren in Parlia- 
ment, (though I know it is thought that many of 
them make some profit of their voices ;) — nor do I 
indeed mean to speak at all of the effects the Lon- 
don air has on the lungs of Englishmen or English- 
women, to w r hom it may be considered as at all 
events natural and congenial ; — but I mean most 



272 THINKS-1-TO-MYSELF. 

particularly, to allude to the very surprising advan- 
tages it gives to the voices of those who happen to 
have been bom in the fair climes of Italy : — the 
more surprising because a Northern atmosphere 
might be naturally expected to be rather disadvan- 
tageous to such Southern rarities. 

I might adduce a thousand instances in proof 
of the astonishing value of an Italian voice, when 
exposed to the influences of a London atmosphere ; 
I might amuse the reader, if I chose, with a curi- 
ous calculation of the probable amount of the enor- 
mous sums paid for every word of every air that pro- 
ceeds from the mouths of certain eminent perform- 
ers, but an article I read this very day in the newspa- 
pers is so much in point, that I shall merely tran- 
scribe it ; — " Madame Catalani had diamonds on 
her head to the amount of £15,000 — her voice, 
however, is her richest jewel" 

A Lady's virtue is generally supposed to be her 
" richest jewel ;" but you see the voice of an Italian 
lady in London outweighs even that ; — at least, so 
the paragraph just cited implies : — most certainly, 
however in a pecuniary point of view, it does always 
outweigh the brightest and purest virtues of many 
of our worthy countrymen, and most amiable 
countrywomen. 



THINKS-I-TOMYSELF. 273 

There are several things for which I wish to give 
London unbounded credit ; particularly with regard 
to all matters of social intercourse : — these are far 
better managed in London than in the country. — 
Mrs. Fidget, for instance, and her troublesome 
dogs, and child, (see pages 52, 53, &c.) would 
never have been admitted in London, while my 
mother was writing a letter to my sister, unless 
she had herself, bonajide, as they say in Latin, 
that is, from the bottom of her heart, chosen it : 
— she might have looked out of window herself, 
and said, " Not at home/ 9 so little are these things 
thought of in that great and polite city. 

I know there must ever appear to be something 
very like a deliberate falsehood, not to s&y- down- 
right lie, in such sort of denials, and therefore, I 
think it w r ould be better for people actually to say 
it themselves at once, out of the window, as I 
have hinted above, instead of making their ser- 
vants their substitutes upon such occasions, that is, 
their deputy, pro, or r/ce-liars : — London servants, 
besides, are in general, and when left to themselves, 
so remarkably pure, so perfectly innocent, and al- 
together immaculate, that it is a shame to lay such 
stumbling-blocks in their w r ay ;— surely it would, 

t 2 



274 THlNKS-I-TO-MYSEtF. 

at least, be worth while to invent some harmless 
equivoque for this sort of questions and answers. 

And now I am upon the subject of being at 
home, I must observe, that to " be at home," 
msans, in London, I scarce know what: — it 
certainly does not mean that you are in your own 
house, private and disengaged, so as to sit quietly, 
snug, and rationally, at full liberty, and with 
complete command of your time, in the enjoy- 
ment of the company of your husband or 
wife, and the olive branches it may have pleased 
Heaven to. raise up around your family table; but 
it is rather, I think, as far as I am able to com- 
prehend the matter, the exact contrary of all this : 
— " to be at home," in London, is any -thing rather 
than to sit snug and quiet, in full enjoyment of one's 
liberty : — it is to open one's doors to eveiy body 
we happen to know, and to give them permission, 
by every freedom in the world, to make it their 
home for the time being ; so far from sitting snug 
and quiet you are, of all the people in such an assem- 
bly, the very person most peremptorily forbidden 
ever to sit snug or quiet : — your servants even must 
be more at the command of the company than of 
yourselves ; nay, perhaps, by a certain deposit of 
money under the candlesticks, they must consent 



TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 275 

to be paid their wages by the visitors, for fear you 
should not be found fit to be trusted. 

The misery is, that when they are all gone, you 
are really left at home ; that is, you have your 
house so completely on your own hands, that, 
probably, not one of all the company just departed, 
care a bit more about you or your house *, though 
you are compelled to care about them, in the mere 
anxiety you feel, lest every thing should not have 
been conducted, as the French say, " comme il 
faut" which admirably expresses a necessity of a 
most imperious nature, in regard to which, any 
failure, ovfaux-pas, I fully apprehend, would be 
more disquieting to the consciences of half the 
ladies in London, than ever so many failings or 
omissions of any other description. 

From all the observations I have been able to 
make, it certainly appears to me, that to be at 
home, in London, does by no means imply any 

* The following lines of the immortal Cowper I cite, merely to 
shew how little he knew of the world: — 

" She that asks 



Her dear five hundred friends, contemns them all, 
And hates their coming; they, what can they less? 
Make just reprisals, and with cringe and shrug, 
And bow obsequious, hide their hate of her." 



276 THIN KS-I-TO-MYS ELF. 

private comfort or domestic liberty, but rather 
public inconvenience, and public distress. — One 
more observation I must make, before I dismiss 
this topic. 

There is a method of being at home, lately in- 
vented, which, if strictly interpreted according to 
the very letter of the terms, is the farthest possible 
from being really at home in your own house ; — 
it is, in fact, freely and deliberately to give up your 
home: — I speak of the custom of lending certain 
great houses, (so great that I dare not mention 
them,) to musical or theatrical performers, who have 
leave to sell tickets of admission, leaving only to 
the real possessor of the house, a power and privi- 
lege of adding a very small proportion of the 
company. 

I have such a high respect fox fiddlers, and danc- 
ing-masters, and opera singers, and foreigners in 
general, that I cannot, and would not, indeed, for 
the world, suppose it possible that they could in- 
troduce any improper company, but money is mo- 
ney, — and I believe that a Bank-note does not at 
all lose its value by coming out of the pocket of 
any vagabond on the face of the earth, any more 
than it increases in value by coming out of the purse 
of a Duchess, Marchioness, Countess, Vifecounless, 



THIN KS-I-TO-MY SELF. 277 

Baroness, &c. &c. &c. so that, Thinks- I-to-my self, 
there's a hazard : the lady of the house may be 
good, super-excellent ; but the company may be 
naught ! — what a contrast ! — what an inconsisten- 
cy? — she may " be at home," certainly, as far as 
she is entitled to go to bed there when all the rest 
of the company are gone, but she may depend 
upon it they will all think themselves as much at 
home as herself, so long as they may choose to 
keep her out of her bed, and are, after all, about 
as much obliged to her for any entertainment they 
may have received, as to the proprietor of any inn 
or hotel, for the accommodation of their rooms, so 
long as they may choose to give a pecuniary equi- 
valent for the bows and curtsies, and eatables and 
drinkables wherewith they have been furnished for 
their money : — Hotel in French, the very word for 
a nobleman's mansion, (grande maison d y une per- 
sonne de qualite,) what then if we w T ere to exchange 

the term House for Hotel, and say, D Hotel, 

E Hotel, F Hotel, &c. Sec. &c. that is, 

in plain English genteel, (nay, even noble) accom- 
modations for those who can afford it. 

Neighbourhood, which is a word of great import- 
ance in the country, is of no account at all in Lon- 
don. — Every day, in the country, you may hear 



278 THINKS- l-TO-MYS-ELF. 

such complaints as these:- — " I wish such and such 
persons lived a little nearer" or, '* I wish such and 
such people were further ;" that is, further off, out 
of sight and out of reach ; but no such murmur- 
ings or wishes -are to be heard in London : — the 
people we hate most in the world, are welcome to 
live next door to us, and there is nobody too far 
off, if any pleasure or profit, amusement or delight, 
but above all, any credit or eclat are to be derived 
from visiting them. 

In London, wherever you arcrcof, nobody, pro- 
bably, of all the company, knows where you are, 
so that you may, with much more facility, and far 
less violence to truth, than in the country, decline 
any troublesome or unpleasant invitation ; nor are 
pleasant or unpleasant invitations so likely to clash 
and interfere in town as in the country, for houses 
enough are open generally every night to enable 
you in the way of visiting, to kill twenty or thirty 
head of game (as Mrs. Fidget would say) in one 
evening; whereas, either on foot, or horseback, or 
in carriages, it must cost you a journey of many 
miles in the country, and all to be transacted by 
vulgar day-light, and all in regular turns, without 
one omission, or any notorious preference : where- 



THIN KS-I-TO-MYS ELF. 279 

as in London, preferences at least are possible, as 
not being very easy to detect. 

It is a great comfort also, that in London, when- 
ever they please, " birds of a feather" may get 
together ; whereas all society in the country is, for 
the most part, so heterogeneous and unharmonious, 
that you will generally see peacocks and sparrows, 
and eagles and tomtits, canary-birds and crows, gold- 
finches and Didappers, all jumbled together; and 
if one peacock would wish to find another peacock, 
or one eagle another eagle, perhaps they may look 
the whole country through before they find one ; — 
in London there is always plenty of all kinds, both of 
birds and beasts, clean and unclean, from the 
highest to the lowest, so that every one may find 
his fellow — geese, owls, rooks, swallows, cormorants, 
lions, tygers, wolves, bears, foxes, and asses ! to a 
certainty every beast of prey and every bird of 
passage. 

The only equalising plan to be adopted in the 
country, is as soon as possible, to set the whole 
party down to cards. Tw t o whist, cassino, or qua- 
drille tables will dispose of four couple at least of 
the elderly birds, and a good bouncing round game 
will take all the rest off your hands ; — by supply- 



280 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

ing the want of conversation in those who c&nnot 
talk, and effectually stopping the mouths of all 
that can, the different measures of talents and in- 
formation, which the several individuals of the com- 
pany may chance to possess, are so happily brought 
to a par at a card-table, and the wise be no longer 
distinguished from the tveak, nor the witty from 
the dull, nor the lively from the stupid, nor the 
sage from the savage, nor the saint from the sinner ; 
or, in other words, the peacock from the spar- 
row, the eagle from the torn-tit 9 &c. 8cc. &c. — 
Though no two of the whole covey may chance to 
be of '* one feather," they are sure enough to be, (at 
a card-table one), all of one note. " Tioo by honours 
and three by cards;' 9 " Great cass, little cass, and 
the spades, Ma'am :" or, " You go rip, Miss, and 1 
draw ;" become of necessity as much the song of 
the nightingale as of the magpie, of the goldfinch as 
of the gull, of the turtle-dove as of the gos-hawk, 
though their plumage be as different as it is possi- 
ble to conceive. — Do but turn gentle Reader, to 
folio 12 of that learned work, which has lately 
made so much bustle in the world, and which of 
course I conclude to be in every library in the king- 
dom, (except, perhaps, the Bodleian and a few 
others,) I mean the PEACOCK AT HOME, and 



THIN KS-I-TO-MY SELF. 28.1 

sec, what little difference the plumage makes, and 
how much upon a par the Dowager lady Toucan, 
and Dame Owlet, Doctor Buzzard, and Admiral 
Penguin appear to be, and how perfectly it seems 
to have been forgotten, by the party themselves 
perhaps, but at all events by the lady of the house, 
(or rather my Lord Peacock) that they would not 
be accounted " birds of a feather" upon any other 
occasion. 

I wonder, for my own part, that I am not more 
fond of cards than I happen to be, for the very 
essence of the amusement seems to me to consist 
in thinking-to-one' s-self— cither in the forced sup- 
pression of the bright ideas and useful information 
with which the witty and the wise might be enter- 
taining the company, were but the common chan- 
nel of converse and communication left open to 
them; or in secret ponder ations, hopes, schemes, 
wishes, fears, and designs of every professed and 
anxious player : or in the restraint put upon the 
passions in orderly company, during an occupation 
in which irritation, vexation, perhaps even envy, ha- 
tred, malice, jealousy and revenge must, in the na- 
ture of things, be as nearly as possible inevitable, 
at least in some breasts, from the beginning of al- 
most every game to the very end of it. Do but 






282 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

look again at the picture, and see, for instance, if 
the Dowager Lady Toucan don't seem, (while she 
dare not utter her feelings,) to be thinking to herself, 
that she could willing clam Admiral Penguin's eyes 
out, for not being able to save her from being 
beasted; while Dame Owlet is more pleasantly, 
(but not, perhaps, less spitefully,) thinking-to-RKK- 
self how fortunate she is to have snug in her own 
hand, the happy card that is to do the business. 
The noble Admiral, forgetful of his element and 
profession, evidently appears to be thinking, not of 
the fishes in the sea as usual, but of the fishes in 
the pool; while Dr. Buzzard alone, seems to turn 
away, as though not very fond of quadrille, and 
(possibly) may be thinking-to-himself, how much 
rather he would be at home, or visiting his patients, 
writing prescriptions, and fingering of fees ; hear- 
tily wishin G-to-himself, besides, perhaps, that the 
pool was out, or his partner Dame Owlet at the 
bottom of the sea, for playing so slow, and looking 
all the while so stupidly tranquil, patient, and 
composed. 

O Cards !— Cards !— Cards !— 

Noble, admirable, valuable invention ! so infalli- 
bly conducive to the moral improvement of the 
young, and to the peace and satisfaction of the old 



TH1NKS-I-T0-MYSELF. 283 

— [Wherever, that is, they are taken up, and noio 
and then only, for mere amusement, once a month or 
so, but made a part of every evening's entertainment, 
and every days occupation — ] The young cannot 
fail to learn from it, how to look sharp in time af- 
ter the main chance ; to have a lively regard for 
their neighbour's property, to be circumspect in all 
their dealings, to win their way, if not by tricks 
and stratagems, yet by art and management, and if 
not to go straight forward, yet at least to shuffle 
successfully through life. 

I The old it must naturally preserve (during all 
the hours daily and nightly devoted thereto,) as 
well from any painful reflections on the past, as 
from any over-anxious preparations for futurity ; 
helping all the while to quicken their hopes of 
eternity, by enabling them to kill Time, at the very 
moment that Time is doing all he can to kill them. 
— But to return — 

I In the country you must always visit in propria 
persona; that is, you must actually go yourselves 
to people's houses ; — but, in London, if your ser- 
vant goes for you, it is often just as well ; or, if 
instead of making your appearance in person, you 
honour your acquaintance with your name on a card 
of certain dimensions, it is no affront, and, Thinks-I- 



284 THINKS-I-TO-MYSE'LF. 

to-myself, perhaps, quite as agreeable to all parties. 
This is a noble convenience, and cuts off a world 
of disquietude and trouble. 

It is no uncommon case in London for a servant 
to know better than a lady's own self whom she is 
acquainted with ; and many instances occur, I be- 
lieve, in which the whole business of visiting pass- 
es no further than between the footmen of differ- 
ent families, who having committed to them the 
entire management of the transfer and exchange of 
cards, conduct the matter with an ease and adroit- 
ness that does them infinite credit, and no doubt 
their mistresses too. 

(As servants of the present day are not unseldom 
the subject of conversation among friends and ac- 
quaintance, and as I have more than once had oc- 
casion to allude to their merits, and am always 
anxious to bestow praise where it is strictly due, 
as besides there are few of my fellow-creatures in 
regard to whose conduct and demeanour J think 
more to myself, as I am in the habit of observing 
them in their different departments, I cannot help 
offering a few remarks on that most amiable class 
of persons. — 

There is nothing, perhaps, of which this age 
may more justly boast than of the very improved 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 285 

state of these domestic conveniences. — No longer 
distinguished, except in certain cases, by any arti- 
cles of dress from their masters and mistresses, they 
nobly lift up their heads on high, like the other 
lords and ladies of the creation, and assume, with- 
out exception, all the airs, and graces, and man- 
ners of their employers, which makes a gay world 
of it from top to bottom. 

Instead of giving any body the trouble of hiring 
them, in the old-fashioned way, their only mode of 
coming into service now is, to hire themselves : — 
they wait not to be asked, what they can do, but in- 
genuously tell you at once what they wont do ; and, 
if upon trial, they should happen to suit their em- 
ployers ever so well, yet if their employers do not 
exactly suit them, they avoid all disagreement by 
withdrawing at once. 

Formerly, if a servant came into sendee in his 
teens, he would do his best to continue in the same 
service till his dotage. — There was no getting rid 
of him : — he clung to his master or mistress like ivy 
to an oak tree ; but now they are for ever going 
and coming, which has introduced such an agree- 
able variety into this department of life, that theYe 
is no saying how many new faces one master or 
one mistress may see in the course of a year.— All 



286 THINKS-I-XO-MYSELF. 

the dulness and monotony of a joint interest and 
mutual attachment are quite at an end ; no master 
need ever be encumbered long with the same ser- 
vant, because no servant will long consent now-a- 
days to live with the same master :— let them be 
employed by whom they will, let them be indulged, 
coaxed, pampered, and caressed ever so, yet such is 
the aspiring nature of their noble minds, that they 
must soon be gone again to " better themselves," and 
who could have the heart to stop them? — 

There is one circumstance rather unpleasant at- 
tending the perpetual change of servants. It is 
irksome, (to shy people at least like myself,) to sit 
and be looked at during the hour of dinner by a 
parcel of strangers around one's table ; but this is 
easily to be avoided in small parties by the use of 
the dumb-waiter— & sort of snuggery, which I con- 
fess, for my own part, I take great delight in, 
whenever practicable ; for a dumb waiter can plainly 
tell no secrets, which a speaking one may : besides, 
the dumb waiter I mean, is generally both deaf and 
blind into the bargain, which, Thinks- I-to-my self, 
multiplies one's comfort greatly. 

Sensible of the heavy charge they must be, in 
these most expensive times, to those with whom 
they live, modern servants are careful to guard 



THJNKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 289 

against waste, by letting you know, as distinctly as 
they can, what will best suit their appetites, and 
what not ; and as they all eat pretty hearty as long 
as they have just ivhat they choose to eat, the quan- 
tity of broken victuals is not likely to be so great, 
as if they were to leave you in the dark as to their 
particular likings and dislikings : — this then is a 
modern accommodation of great importance : — if 
you or your housekeeper make any mistake in pro- 
viding for the tables below stairs, immediate mur- 
muring and complaint soon sets all to rights again, 
by letting you into the secret of the necessity of 
better management. 

Their exemption from taxes and houshold cares, 
renders them most happily careless and indifferent 
to all public and private distresses and calamities, 
so that they fortunately enjoy, in general, an equal 
state of spirits, and should any great national mis- 
fortune, or family loss, bring sorrow and heaviness 
into the drawing-room, it must be a great blessing 
and delight to know, that you have nothing to do 
but open the door, and you will be sure at all times 
to hear the voice of joy and gladness in the servants' 
hall and kitchen. 

| Formerly there used to be great danger of con- 
fusion in most housholds from the perfect indiflfe- 



290 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

rence with which every servant would perform, 
when required, every sort of service : — if the master 
gave but the word of command, or expressed any 
sort of want, none stopped to enquire whose place 
it was to obey, but the first that happened to be 
within hearing would be eager to discharge the duty 
demanded ; and if more than one heard his voice, 
you might have seen the jo Vy footman tumbling in 
his eagerness over the great fat housekeeper, or the 
housekeeper over the cook, or the cook over the old 
gouty butler, all anxious to obey the impressive call ; 
— but now every servant makes it his business to 
know his own place so exactly, that it is a matter 
of impossibility that one should any longer invade 
the department of another ; — let the call be ever so 
loud, or the emergency ever so pressing, no entrea- 
ty or chiding, no coaxing or commanding, could 
induce a butler to consent to do the work of&foot- 
man, or a footman the work of a groom, or a house- 
maid the work of a cook, or a cook the work of a 
housemaid, but every one will be found to have 
such an invincible disposition to preserve the order 
and etiquette of things, that the smallest irregu- 
larity in this respect, on the part of any master or 
any mistress, is sure to be checked or corrected by 
the timely advice and memento, that, "It is not 






THINKS-I-TO-MYSELFi 291 

my place to do so and so." This also is an inven- 
tion of very modern date. 

There is one office, duty, or service, of some im- 
portance to the comfort and welfare of the commu 
nity, which is now entirely relinquished and aban- 
doned by the whole race and order of domestics ; 
namely, that of informing the master or mistress 
of any disorderly proceedings on the part of the 
household in general. — "Ma'am/' says Mrs, House- 
keeper, " I did certainly know long ago that Dolly 
the housemaid did intrigue with Charles thefootman, 
but I thought it was not my business to interfere :" 
— and " Sir,"' says Mr. Butler, " I certainly thought 
that some silver spoons were missing, and that 
Molly the dairy-maid dressed too fine ; but I did 
not like to get anger among my fellow-servants, by 
making any piece of work about it." 

It used formerly to be a matter of convenience for 
any master or mistress to communicate an order or 
direction through a third person : — to tell the butler, 
for instance, to tell the coachman to wait at table, 
or the footman to ask the groom to carry a letter to 
the post : — but this round-about mode of communi- 
cation is now properly put an end to :— Mr. Butler 
no longer dare presume to tell Mr. Coachman to 
wait at table ; or Mr. Charles thefootman Mr. Bob 

u2 



292 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF, 

the groom to carry a letter to the post ; Mrs. House- 
keeper to tell Miss House-maid to help her prepare 
the sweet-meats ; nor the nurse to ask the laundry- 
maid to bring up little Miss's dinner. But if these 
things are to be done for the special accommo- 
dation of the master and mistress, it is settled 
and agreed, that in point of etiquette they are bound 
to deliver the commands themselves — which is but 
paying a proper compliment to their supremacy ; — 
and though resistance may be often made even to 
the commands of masters and mistresses themselves 
in such cases, yet one step at least in the disturb- 
ance and discomfiture of families is by this means 
avoided, while the honour, dignity, pride, and im- 
portance of all the wider-servants remains inviolate 
— a point most particularly to be attended to in the 
present day, by all who wish to live (with the con- 
sent and permission of their dependents) in peace 
and quietness. 

In old time, every male servant wore a livery, the 
best possible badge of his calling and profession, 
though rather a degrading one, and therefore of 
course, better laid aside ; and thus we see, that now, 
none will wear a livery that can possibly avoid it ; 
and where livery servants must be kept for show 
and parade, they are so chosen and selected as 



TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 293 

amply to compensate the casual degradation of their 
harlequin jackets ; — none being admitted into the 
chosen band, but such as are distinguished above 
their fellows, by extraordinary altitude or beauty of 
person, or elegance of figure, or gentility of address ; 
the exterior is all that is attended to, and they are 
generally hired by measure. 

/ T cannot pretend to say whether the above im- 
provements are owing most to the masters and 
mistresses of the present day, or to the servants 
themselves: — perhaps they deserve to share the 
praise between them ; — perhaps, both have contri- 
buted all they could to that happy change of man- 
ners and circumstances, upon which I have judged 
fit to congratulate the public at large. 

At times when the servants of other countries 
were judged to be notoriously bad, the wisest heads 
seem to have been puzzled to know where exactly 
to fix the blame ; — some thought the masters were 
in fault, and others the servants : — no wonder, 
therefore, if I am now equally puzzled to know how 
to portion out aright the commendations that may 
be due to each.— -About thirty years ago, a cele- 
brated French writer thus speaks of the bad condi- 
tion of servants at Paris, attributing their faults, in 
a great degree, to the conduct of their masters ;— 



294 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

" Servants in former days" says he, (for the 
title of the chapter is Nos Grand Meres, out Grand- 
mothers,) " made part of the family : — they were 
treated with less civility, but more affection; of 
which they being duly sensible, were in proportion 
grateful and attentive ; — masters were better served, 
and could depend upon them for a degree of fidelity 
very rare in these days ; — care was taken to pre- 
serve them alike from vice and from want ; and, in 
return for their services and obedience, they plenti- 
fully enjoyed all the fruits of kindness and protec- 
tion ; — but, now, servants pass from house to house, 
and from place to place, perfectly indifferent what 
master it is they serve, and will come into the pre- 
sence of the one they have just quitted, without the 
smallest emotion ; — they never get together but to 
reveal the secrets they have been in the way to dis- 
cover : and are, in fact, no better than spies ; and, 
as they are well paid, and well fed, but despised, 
they perceive it to be so, and therefore are become 
our greatest enemies : — formerly, they led a frugal, 
laborious, hard life, but they were held in some 
esteem and regard, and, therefore, the faithful ser- 
vant commonly died of old age by the side of his 
master." 

This author does not seem to be quite aware of 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 295 

some of the comforts flowing from the changes he 
describes ; — certainly, his old masters were shock- 
ingly unfashionable, though his new ones might be 
somewhat to blame. 

The other account I have to give throws the 
blame upon the servants : — the original is in Latin ; 
don't be frightened, ladies, it is Clodpole trans- 
lates, and it was one of your greatest favourites 
who wrote it, — even the famous Petrarch,- — the son- 
netteer, — the lover of Laura, — a great poet, a great 
lover, and a great philosopher, and what is more 
than all, a great man, for he kept great company, 
and, probably, had in his time a great many great 
servants :— it is worth reading at all events, because 
it is nearly five hundred years old, and so good as 
servants are now, you would scarce believe it pos- 
sible (Thinks-I-to-myself,) that they could ever have 
been so bad. 

f Seneca," says he, " has said a great deal in ex- 
cuse of servants, throwing the whole blame on their 
masters, and he commends his friend, Lucilins, for 
living familiarly with his domestics : — What can I 
say? — I do not like to dispute the opinion of so 
great a man, and yet, I must confess, things appear 
to me quite otherwise : — possibly, they had the ad- 
vantage, either of greater skill and prudence to 



296 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

make their servants good, or better luck in meeting 
with such as happened to be good: — to myself 
neither of these things ever occurred, though I have 
been particularly solicitous about both :■ — let others, 
therefore, see to their own concerns ; as to myself 
I cannot praise what I have never known :— -to me, 
the race of servants is above all things abominable, 
and I regard nothing as more true than the old 
proverb with which Seneca finds fault, namely, that 
' as many servants as you have, so many enemies 
you have.' 

" I do not pretend to dispute what he says in 
particular, or to deny his authorities ; — but whether 
it be owing to the change of times, or mere chance, 
or my own impatience, I do declare that I never 
yet saw a good servant, though I am continually 
upon the look-out for them ; and if I were by acci- 
dent ever to meet with one, I should be as much 
amazed, as if I had met a man with two heads. 

i* And lest any should be disposed from what I 
say, to attribute this either to my particular care- 
lessness or severity, I must protest that I have tried 
every expedient ; — Lucilius could not live with his 
servants more familiarly than I have done with 
mine ; I have advised with them, I have conversed 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 297 

with them, Ihave even admitted them to my table*; 
I have confided to them my person and my property, 
and trusted them on purpose to make them faith- 
ful ; — but this my confidence in them has never 
answered : every artifice, on the contrary, has been 
practised against me : not one of my servants but 
has become more insolent in consequence of my 
familiarity, and more unmanageable in consequence 
of my indulgence ; and as familiarity has bred con- 
tempt, so has my confidence in them only made 
them thieves : — let Seneca then say what he pleases 
of his servants, I must speak what I think of my 
own and others ; for I know not how it is, but if I 
speak the truth I think all are alike : — I confess, 
for my own part, I find nothing in life so vexatious 
as the obstinacy and perverseness of servants.— 
Other wars and contentions have their intervals of 
peace and repose, but with these domestic foes, we 
must fight without intermission. — I am not, how- 
ever, unmindful" (Thinks-I-to-myself, it is as well 
to add to this, though it does at present in no man- 
ner apply to any of us, — )" that we ought to learn 
to bear with patience what we know to have be- 
fallen the greatest and the best of men: — even 

* Remember this was written 500 years ago. 



298 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

Ulysses, in that celebrated sera which is termed 
heretical, among the other hard toils and labours he 
sustained, is said to have been sorely afflicted at 
the insolence of his servants and hand-maidens ; 
and, in more modern days, as report goes, the Em- 
peror Frederick never ceased, (living and dying,) to 
complain of the injuries he had sustained from 
servants." 

How happy, (Thinks- I-to-my self,) how superla- 
tively happy we ought to be, that neither of the 
above accounts do at all apply to the masters, or 
mistresses, or servants of the times and country 
in which we live : — No : — now, among ourselves, 
every thing is correct and comfortable ; masters love 
their servants, and servants their masters ; — mis- 
tresses their maids, and maids their mistresses ;— 
how much, I do not even attempt to describe; as 
nothing can exceed the quiet, submissive, and civil 
obedience of the present race of servants, their fru- 
gality and diligence, their patient compliance and 
contentedness with every thing enjoined them, and 
every thing provided for them, so nothing, surely, 
can ever exceed the care which modern masters have 
of their servants' interests, both temporal and spiri- 
tual: — in the words of an old author, — 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 299 

14 They care not what wages they give, 
They care not what life 'tis they live." 

See the Epistles of the very learned Grumble- 

dumpsius; but N. B. look sharp, ox perhaps, you 

will not find it. 

When Emily and myself first went to London, 
we took with us some old fashioned servants from 
Grumblethorpe, being willing rather to put up with 
their odd and uncouth ways, than take a new set 
merely to please ourselves ; — as they have been in 
the family ever since they w r ere children, they will 
probably all soon drop off by degrees, and then w r e 
shall have a general reform of our whole household : 
I confess it will be a happy moment for myself, be- 
cause then I may feel at liberty ; — at present, their 
continual concern and anxiety about my health and 
my happiness, and the health and happiness of my 
wife and children, and the order and regularity of 
my house, and the morals and behaviour of the 
under-servants, perfectly prevent our doing many 
things, that are quite common in other families > 
though somewhat contrary to the laws both of 
God and man : — it is very trying to live under such 
restraints ! 

The provoking thing is, that notwithstanding all 
their old-fashioned habits, and troublesome anxiety 



300 thiNks-i-to-myself. 

about one's happiness, long acquaintance naturally 
produces even a strong degree of love and esteem 
for them, so that few, I should think, could find in 
their hearts to turn them adrift, if they happen not 
to wish to depart of themselves : — the very nurse 
that nursed me, that took me first from my mother's 
lap, is still an inmate of my house ; — though so af- 
flicted with the rheumatism and a defect of sight, 
and worn down with age, as to be perfectly and 
entirely useless, I have been weak enough to pro- 
mise that she shall have her run for life among us, 
and that I will deposit her remains when she dies, 
somewhere near her old master and mistress, in the 
church-yard at Grumblethorpe. 

Luckily for her, Emily and my children find 
amusement in her old stories, and 1 believe, often 
encourage her to talk of past times, which is her 
greatest delight : — they have learnt from her, I 
find, the exact pattern of the cap and frock the 
Clodpole had on at his christening ; who made the 
cockade to denote my boyhood ; how many yards of 
lace there were in it, and what sort of lace it was ; 
she remembers the colour of my first pair of 
breeches, and the very pattern of my buttons, 
which, by all accounts, appear to have been of the 
sugar-loaf shape ; — often do the tears trickle down 



THINKS-l-TO-MYSELF. 301 

her cheeks when she relates what shocking chil- 
blains poor little master Bobby had in the hard 
weather, and how she used to bathe them, and 
anoint them, and chafe them with her hands, and 
wrap them up in her apron as I sat, crying and 
sobbing upon her lap, before the nursery fire ; — she 
knows exactly how T many nights she sat up with 
me when I had the measles, and the small pox, and 
when I cut my eye-teeth ; she can recount, and I 
believe often does, all the pranks of my childhood, 
and boyhood, and youth. 

But she is in all her glory when she describes 
the splendid and costly dresses which she remem- 
bers my grandfather and grandmother to have worn ; 
such gold and silver lace, as broad as one's hands ! 
rich silks that w T ould have stood an end of them- 
selves! — " Aye," (she will say sometimes,) " things 
were very different then ; — then a Duchess might 
be distinguished from a Milk-maid, and a Duke 
from a Valley-de-sham :— then the wages and hire 
of servants and apprentices were not all spent in 
dress as it is now a days, but w T as sent home to the 
relief of their aged parents, to prevent their becoming 
dependent on, or a burthen to their parishes, or laid 
up for times of sickness or want ; — but w r ho can 
wonder that things are as thev are, w T hen a shoe- 



302 THINKS-I-TO MYSELF. 

maker's apprentice can have the assurance to dress 
like a lord, or a washer-woman's daughter like a 
lady, and not be ashamed of it, and their parents 
or their employers be such fools as to encourage 
it ?" — So will she continually run on, shaking her 
head, and lifting up her hands at the sad times and 
sad changes she has lived to witness ; — for as such 
she regards them. 

I had great apprehensions at first that she would 
have been the occasion of the death of my wife, or 
some of my children, not only from her over-fond 
attachment to them, but to certain ancient nursery 
prejudices.— >When my eldest child was born, though 
it was in the very middle of the month of July, she 
would have an enormous fire lighted in the room, 
and a warming pan held within the curtains of the 
bed, whenever there was any necessity to undraw 
them, so much as the space of two inches, for the 
purpose of introducing any supply of food, or drink, 
or medicine : so that had not the apothecary inter- 
posed pretty peremptorily, I verily think both Emily 
and her offspring would have been entirely suffo- 
cated: — then, the pap she made for the infant, 
thick enough for the spoon to stand upright in, was 
to be forced by boat fulls into the tiny stomach of 
the new born, to prevent the wind getting in ; and 






THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 303 

when it had been introduced in such unmerciful 
quantities, as necessarily to occasion a degree of 
distension, so uneasy as to throw the poor child al- 
most into convulsions, more fuel was to be added 
to the flame, because it was a case proved in her 
own mind, that wind had got in nevertheless, and 
that a child could cry for nothing but wind, and 
wind could come from nothing but emptiness ; — so 
that the more she kept stuffing, the more the child 
cried, — and the more the child cried, the more she 
kept stuffing it. 

When, at last, by dint of stuffing and cramming, 
she had brought it to such a state of continual suf- 
fering and continual crying, that nothing seemed 
likely to appease it, she revealed to us this great 
nursery mystery, videlicet, that Providence had 
provided for such sort of infantine cryings, but one 
only cure in the w^hole compass of the universe ; 
and that this one and only cure and remedy was, 

a BIT OF A YOUNG ROASTED SUCKING PIG ! ! for 

which she w r ould have had of course a special mes- 
senger sent out, upon the fleetest horse in the 
stables, to rummage and explore all the pig-sties in 
the country round. 

[ It was m vain that I tried to laugh or to argue 
her out of any of these prepossessions : — I even took 



304 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

the pains to describe to her, as well as I could, the 
narrow dimensions of an infant's stomach, and the 
minute vessels on which all its nourishment de- 
pended:— in a joking way, though most seriously 
convinced of its truth, I used often to tell her, that 
in all likelihood, old nurses and gossips had sent 
more human creatures out of life than either guns 
or swords, plague, pestilence, or famine, and that 
but for the blunders and mismanagement of such 
sort of good folks, half, if not two-thirds of the in- 
fants that have perished, w r ould, probably, have 
lived and done well ; — -but I might as well have 
talked to the wind : — it generally all ended in a, — 
* Don't tell me, my dear young gentleman, of your 
halves and your thirds, and your narrow stomachs, 
and small vessels, how should you men know any- 
thing about it? — Didn't /bring up you, and your 
sister, and Master Tommy, and Miss Jenny, ('till 
they were near six months old,) and should have 
brought up all the whole eleven, your mama had, 
had they not turned out so sickly and fit ty that 
there was no rearing them any-how?" 

She spoke truly enough, for, by all accounts, w r e 
were all sickly and fitty, and, I verily believe, no- 
thing but a very accidental strength of stomach in 
the case of my sister and myself, prevented our 



THINKS-1-TO-MYSELF. 305 

going the way of the other nine, that is being killed 
with kindness; — stuffed and crammed and coddled 
out of this wicked world almost as soon as we 
were born into it. 

Much as I love and esteem the good old lady 
herself, and many of her contemporaries, I cannot 
but feel satisfied, that it will be a great blessing to 
posterity and future generations to be born, when, 
in the course of nature, and revolution of things, 
the whole race of staffers, and trammers, and cod- 
dlers *, are defunct and done away from the face 
of the earth : — I cannot call my nine brothers and 
sisters back again, but I will take all the care I can 
to prevent any of their nephews and nieces follow- 
ing them in the same premature manner, by seeing 
that they are reared in a way more evidently con- 
sonant to the plain dictates of nature ; and I w T ould 
advise every body else w r ho happens to feel any de- 

l * I include Coddlers, not that I would have infants starved either 
by cold or hunger, but that I conceive hot, and soft, and crowded beds, 
and heaps of flannel folded over their mouths, and ears, and noses, cannot 
be over favourable to the due admission of that aerial fluid on which 
most of the functions of life have hitherto been thonght to depend : — 
possibly, also, the stomach, and mouth, and throat, which often suffer 
the direst evils from being over-heated, might stand some chance of 
being a little cooler and more comfortable in the absence of such over- 
whelming incumbrances. 

X 



306 THINKS-I-TO-MYSEM\ 

sire to have their children to live and do well, and to 
groiv up healthy and strong, to do the same ; that 
is, to keep an eye upon these particulars, and to be 
careful that every infant either has its own natural 
food, not prepared by old nurses, but by young 
nurses, that is, by Providence ; or, if they be by any 
invincible necessity deprived of that blessing, (nothing 
less than invincible necessity should deprive them of 
it,) that then the substitutes for that natural food 
be as like it as possible ; thin, light, never given too 
hastily, never in too large quantities at one time ; 
how like to all this, boats full of pap as thick as mud 
and perhaps as hot as fire, and as sweet as syrup, 
poured down a child's throat while lying flat upon 
its back, spirituous liquors, spices, beer, wine, inces- 
sant doses of Godfrey s Cordial, Dalby's Carmin- 
ative, &c. &c. &c. are, I leave every body possessed 
of common sense, and hitherto unprejudiced, to 
judge and determine. 

I have inserted all this, merely, that nobody may 
grudge the money they shall have paid for my 
book, because, though I believe almost every phy- 
sician in the kingdom would now give the same 
advice, yet not without a guinea fee, at least half 
as much again as my book is to cost; and besides, 
if any infants in consequence of this hint, should 



THINKS-l-TO-MYSELF. 30? 

be saved from the thrush, or from jits, or from 
humours, or from painful dentition, so much crying, 
and roaring, by day and by night, will infallibly be 
prevented ; so much more peace and quiet, of 
course, will take place in every family ; good mo- 
thers will be made more happy, and bad mothers 
will be less teazed ; good nurses will get more rest, 
and cross nurses will be the seldomer provoked, 
and every poor little infant that comes shivering 
and shaking into this strange world of our's, will 
be sure to have, not only all its pains and perils 
exceedingly abridged, but by giving less trouble, 
and being better enabled to make its own way, 
will stand so much better a chance of having more 
friends and fewer enemies, more good words and 
more good wishes, than could ever be the case un- 
der the old stuffing, overfeeding, citing, fretting, 
dying way of going on ; — add to all this, less phy- 
sic will be necessary, and therefore less of the 
plague and trouble of administering it, and now 
judge what valuable advice I have given you*; 

* By you, I mean, at least, all persons already married, all that 
are going to be married, all that expect to be married, all that mean 
to be married, all that wish to be married, all that ought to be mar- 
ried, and all that have any influence over those that are married: — I 
scarce think that even professed old maids and professed old bache. 
lors are quite excluded, because, 1 am confident, many of the latter 

x2 



308 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

though certainly at the expence of a large digres- 
sion from my main work, — to which it is highly 
necessary now to return. 

The reader will easily suppose from what I have 
expressed of our dislike to the bustle and noise of 
the metropolis, that the principal part of our time 
was passed at Grumblethorpe, especially as long as 
my worthy parents lived. — No events in the whole 
course of my life affected me more deeply (as I 
hope my readers will believe) than those which 
bereft me of my excellent parents : — whenever I 
had allowed myself to dwell upon the painful pros- 
pect of their separation, it had always occurred to 
me, that which ever went first, the other would 
not long survive ; — and so it turned out to be : they 

have nerves liable to be affected by the cries of an infant either in the 
way of sympathy or provocation, (I hope, mostly of the former, ) and I 
verily believe, half, if not two-thirds of those piercing, and penetrat- 
ing, and pitiful cries might be prevented, not in great houses only, 
but in our cottages, and poor-houses, if a proper system were gene- 
rally adopted in regard to the food, mode of feeding, clothing and 
management of infants; while the grand secret of such an improve- 
ment, I will venture to say, merely consists in causing a little com- 
mon sense to prevail over inveterate prejudice, and nature over super- 
stition; — a hard undertaking, I know, but not hopeless, with the 
assistance of such advice as modern practitioners have done well to 
communicate in very sensible and perspicuous publications. — As little 
tiny infants and brute beasts cannot speak for themselves, Thinks- 1- 
to-myself, why mayn't I speak for them, if an opportunity offer? 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 309 

had lived together from the first moment of their 
union, in such a state of complete harmony and 
agreement, that it was a most obvious conclusion 
to draw, that separate and apart from each other, 
they could not possibly exist on this side the 
grave. 

My poor mother died of a lingering illness, the 
foundation of which was laid, probably, in her 
elose attendance on my sister, the third year after 
her marriage, during a violent fit of sickness. — No- 
thing could prevent her sitting up with her, night 
after night, though it was in the depth of winter, 
not only that she might be in the way to adminis- 
ter to my sister's own wants, but that she might 
superintend occasionally what was going on in the 
nursery, where there were two young infants ill 
also, whom my sister could not bear, (as is too 
commonly the case,) to leave entirely to servants. 

Just as my sister began to recover, my mother 
became ill, and from one failure and ailment to 
another, gradually sunk into a state of debility, 
from which, no care, nor art, nor remedy could 
possibly restore her. 

[ There never existed a better mother, there never 
existed a better wife ! — I dare not attempt to draw 
her picture myself, it has already been delineated 



310 TIHNKS-1-TO-MYSELF. 

by another, whose painting I shall adopt, most 
happy to avail myself of it. — » 

<f She had a love so great for her lord, so entire- 
ly given up to a dear affection, that she thought 
the same things, and loved the same loves, and 
breathed in his soul, and lived in his presence, and 
languished in his absence ; and all that she was, 
or did, was only for, and to, her dearest lord. 

M As she was a rare wife, so she was an excellent 
mother ; for, in so tender a constitution of spirit as 
her's was, and, in so great a kindness towards 
her children, there hath seldom been seen a stricter 
and more curious care of their persons, their de- 
portment, their nature, their disposition, their 
learning, and their customs ; and, if ever kindness 
and care did contest, and make parties in her, yet 
her care and her severity were ever victorious, and 
she knew not how to do an ill turn to their severer 
part, by her more tender and forward kindness, 
and as her custom was, she turned this also into 
love to her lord ; for she was not only diligent to 
have them bred nobly and religiously, but also 
was careful and solicitous that they should be 
taught to observe all the circumstances and inclina- 
tions, the desires and wishes of their father, as 
thinking that virtue to have no good circumstan- 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSEL1 . 31 t 

ces, which was not dressed by his copy, and ruled 
by his life, and his affections ; and her prudence 
in the managing her children was so singular and 
rare, that whenever you mean to bless a family, 
and pray a hearty and profitable prayer for it, beg 
of God, that the children may have those excellent 
things, which (my mother,) designed for (us,) and 
provided for (11$,) in her heart and wishes ; that 
they may live in her purposes, and grow thither, 
whither she w 7 ould fain have brought us" she was 
in short, " in her house, a comfort to her dearest 
lord, a guide to her children, a rule to her ser- 
vants, and an example to all." — — This, I can 
safely say, is an exact portrait of my dear and ex- 
cellent mother. 

•My father, as arman, a husband,, and a parent, 
was, in all respects, as correct, as amiable, and, (I had 
almost said,) as rare and singular. — His attachment 
to my mother was exactly in proportion to her at- 
tachment to him, and, in regard to his children, 
the same struggles of care and kindness were con- 
spicuous in his whole deportment ; — w r hen reproof 
was necessary, he was not backward to administer 
it, but his love and kindness were still so predomi- 
nant, that it was plain to see, that chiding was his 
" strange ivorkJ'—l must say, that neither my sister 



312 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

nor myself gave him much trouble in this way ; — 
the chief thing I have to reproach myself with, is, 
a sort of inattention, arising from the disparity 
of years between us, which, I am sensible, must 
at times have interfered with his enjoyments. I 
would gladly recal now, if I could, many opportu- 
nities I suffered to pass, of being more in his com- 
pany, and more in the way of his advice and in- 
struction : — I may mistake, but it seems to me, now 
he is gone, as though I certainly omitted attentions 
of this kind, which, I fear the best of children are 
liable to do ; a failing, Cowper has so admirably 
touched in his Task, that I cannot help reminding 
my reader of so beautiful a passage. — 

M Some friend is gone, — perhaps — 



A Father, whose authority, in show 
When most severe, and must'ring all its force, 
Was but the graver countenance of love ; — 
Whose favour, like the clouds of spring, might low'r, 
And utter now and then an awful voice, 
But had a blessing in its darkest frown, 
Threat'ning at once, and nourishing the plant j — 
We loved, but not enough, the gentle hand 
That reared us, — at a thoughtless age, allured 
By every gilded folly, we renounced 
His shelt'ring side, and wilfully forewent 
That converse which we now in vain regret. 
How gladly would the man recall to life 
The boy's neglected sire ! a mother too, 



THIN KS-1-TO-MYS ELF. 313 

That softer friend, perhaps more gladly still, 
Might he demand them at the gates of Death?" 

When I reflect on these things, it appears to me 
one of the strongest natural arguments for the im- 
mortality of the soul, and the renewal of our earthly 
relations in a world to come, that even where the 
greatest possible attachment subsists between pa- 
rents and their children, the mere disparity of years 
inevitably prevents that complete association of 
feelings, and intimate fellowship of heart and soul, 
which is the cement and prerogative of all other 
friendships ; in a world to come, but no-where else, 
these things may be set to rights, and such attach- 
ments receive their full completion. 

For many years my father acted as a magistrate 
merely for the sake of doing good ; thinking it pos- 
sible, as he used to say, that in a low degree it 
might give him opportunities of becoming " a re- 
fuge to the needy," " eyes," perhaps, " to the 
blind," "or feet to the lame," and, indeed, this 
was the bent and aim of all his proceedings. — 
While his personal character and rank in life gave 
him weight with his higher neighbours, so that he 
could easily prevent all oppression and partiality, 
his strict justice, extreme courtesy, and known 
benevolence to those below him, had the effect. 



314 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

upon all occasions, of animating the good, and inti- 
midating the base ; — which intimidation arose, not 
so much out of any dread of his power, or appre- 
hension of his severity, (for the milk of human 
kindness flowed through all his veins,) but from 
the mere feeling and persuasion that to do wrong 
would disoblige the squire, or my Lord, as it ran 
latterly ; he made a point of hearing every com- 
plaint and every defence with the utmost temper, 
patience, and civility, and when he had discovered 
to the best of his apprehension where the fault 
really lay, he gave sentence in such a manner, as 
should serve at once to vindicate the equity, pro- 
priety, and necessity of the law, convince the guilty 
of the atrociousness and folly of his conduct, and 
reconcile the parties for the time to come : — my 
father's chosen motto, indeed, seemed to be 
" Parcere subject is 9 et debellare superhos" which I 
shall take leave to translate, ■? To aid the lowly, 
and restrain the proud," but I have often heard 
him say, he was not unfrequently puzzled ; for he 
did not always finds the superbi among the rich, or 
the subjecti among the poor. 

His death was almost sudden to those that were 
about him ; — that he never enjoyed himself after 
the decease of my poor mother, was evident to us 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 315 

all, but what he actually felt and suffered, he kept a 
profound secret y — he complained of nothing ; but 
it was very perceptible that his old amusements 
had lost all their attractions ; that time hung heavy 
on his hands, and his appetite failed ; that he him- 
self foresaw that his end was approaching, I con- 
clude, from many conversations he had with me, 
and from some particular directions and advice he 
seemed more than commonly anxious to impress 
upon my mind. A few hours only before he died, 
(which happened, at last, suddenly, as he sat in his 
chair,) he called me to him, and formally thanked 
me for my attention and kindness to him ; spoke 
in raptures of my mother, and expressed a hope 
that they should soon meet again ; — he exhorted me 
to be kind and indulgent when he was gone to all 
his tenants and servants : — (i As a Nobleman," said 
he, " I hope you will always act nobly, — which is 
almost all I can say upon the subject; — degrade 
not yourself by low company, or low amusements, 
yet be condescending : a great man is never so great 
as when he stoops to those who are only below him 
in the accidental circumstances of fortune or sta- 
tion ; — endeavour always to be reserved without 
pride, and familiar without meanness.— As a Peer, if 
you ever come to sit in the House, be independent ; 



316 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

not vexatiously thwarting and harassing the Exe- 
cutive at every turn, (which it is as easy for him to do 
who deserves no place, as for him who scorns to 
solicit one,) but preserve such a clear freedom of 
opinion, as may fully satisfy your own mind, that 
you have not bound yourself by any irrevocable 
obligation to vote one way or the other : — give no 
proxy ; it will be your privilege, but it seems to 
me a mere burlesque upon the debates of the House; 
a fair one, perhaps often, but not creditable; 
vote and decide for yourself: — I hope I need not 
say, be religious ; — I trust you have ever had such 
examples before your eyes in this respect, as may 
have made an indelible impression upon your mind, 
— yet be careful ; the world abounds with snares 
and temptations ; — the more you possess in this 
world, the more you must have to account for, and 
the more you may have to lose in the world to come, 
where earthly delights and earthly riches, and 
earthly pretensions will be utterly unknown." 

These were among the last words he uttered ; in 
three hours after, he was carried a corpse to his 
chamber, and the glittering coronet, with all its 
dangerous accompaniments and weighty incum- 
brances, descended upon my head. 

In looking over his papers after his death, the 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 317 

following lines were found, blotted in places, and 
evidently written in haste. Being in his own 
hand, and having in one corner of the paper a 
date corresponding nearly with the period of my 
mother's death, I can scarce doubt but they were 
written upon that occasion, though he certainly 
never showed them to any of us, and does not 
appear to have even taken the pains to write them 
out fair; on which account, perhaps, I ought 
not to make them public ; but I cannot quite re- 
concile it to myself to suppress them, as they 
manifestly bespeak a most resigned temper of 
mind, under one of the sorest calamities incident 
to human nature. 



How without rule are the decrees of God ? 
How He ehastises ; — How He spares the rod ! 
Scarce does it ever seem that right prevails ; 
How oft, Guilt flourishes, and Virtue fails! 
What must I think of this severe decree, 
Which, thro' the will of God, now humbles ME ? 
Am I to think Him kind, who could destroy 
Every fond hope I had of lasting joy ! 
Am I to think Him merciful who knew 
The pangs I felt, and yet his aid withdrew ! — 
Am I to think Him good, who could ordain 
To innocence and worth, disease and pain? — 



318 THINKS-l-TO-MYSELF. 

Am I to think Him wise, who could withdraw 

The fairest pattern that the world e'er saw ? 

The best example of the purest life ; 

The fondest mother, and the chastest wife ? 

The mildest mistress, and the warmest friend? 

Could bring such virtues to an early end? 

He who could re-illume the languid eye, 

And have deferr'd at will the parting sigh ? 

Have turn'd aside the threat'ning dart of death, 

Have help'd the feeble pulse, the short'ning breath ? 

Am I to think HIM gracious, good, and kind. 

Who saw the bitter anguish of my mind, 

And yet alike unmov'd by pray'r or tear, 

Tore from mv bosom all I held most dear? 

Yes— good he is ! !— and on this hope I live : 

He knows the scene's unfinisVd — He can give 

In some superior world of peace and bliss, 

A compensation for the pains of this ! 

Perhaps, the sorrows that we here endure 

May make the happiness ofkeav'n more sure : 

To part so soon perhaps, whate'er the pain, 

May make it happier to meet again : 

Perhaps the very stroke that caus'd my grief 

May have prov'd kind to her, and brought relief. 

Tm left to suffer what I scarce can bear; 

She is in shelter, and above all care ! 

She left her children innocent and free; 

/ have to guide them through life's stormy sea ! 

She left me safe ; and, (for I hid my woe) 

She saw me look at ease, and thought me so ; 

But had she known my smiles were all pretence, 

Scarce Heaven's high summons could have call'd her hence ! 

Almost, had she but seen my aching heart, 

She would have given up heav'n, not io part! 



TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 319 

To comfort me she would have shunn'd no pain, 
To comfort me she would return again ; 
But that she knows, perhaps, my better doom ; 
Sees in mv present pan^s a bliss to come; 
Sees, for the ehastend, God reserves the best, 
And for the heavier-laden sweeter rest! 



Some of the lines undoubtedly do not exactly ap- 
ply to the period and circumstances of my mother s 
death, so that perhaps, after all, they may relate to 
some otlier event ; but it must at least have been 
one extremely similar in most points. They were 
certainly written on the loss of a beloved wife, and 
that wife a mother also. 

I shall dwell, however, no longer on a subject so 
melancholy, but proceed to the winding up of my 
family history. 

Nothing made me happier than to find that my 
marriage with Emily, was of great benefit to her 
father and the rest of the family. — The singular 
worth of this excellent divine, would, in all proba- 
bility, have been left without any earthly reward, 
and he might have mouldered away the rest of his 
life in the Vicarage of Grumblethorpe, had it not 
been for this alliance ; — this seemed immediately to 
give him a more than ordinary claim to the higher 
appointments in the Church ; which jointly or suc- 
cessively, he obtained., till he arrived at a station 



320 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

which has enabled him to provide well for all his 
other children. 

Nor let any ever pretend to think, that because 
I happen to have thus dwelt upon the claim of high 
alliance, that Mr. Mandeville had no other preten- 
sions or claims, for I am bold to say, that his ele- 
vation, however obtained, has been in no manner 
likely to have the effect of excluding or keeping back 
any other Divine of better pretensions ; an event, 
certainly to be apprehended in cases of this nature, 
and which, Thinks- I-to-my self, (perhaps) some- 
times happens. 

And I might confidently say, quite as much with 
regard to the promotion of my revered and valua- 
ble friend, Mr. Hargrave, — who began to rise in 
his profession from the very moment my father be- 
came a Peer, and acquired an interest in the Scotch 
boroughs, — and has obtained excellent preferment, 
evidently not so much on account of his own private 
virtue and merit, as because he had the good luck 
to be tutor to one of us noble Clodpoles ; as such, I 
acknowledge he might very well have deserved it, 
for such an appointment bespeaks talents at least, 
and the more Clod-pole the more labour ; — I must, 
however, confess, that I am honest and public 
spirited enough to feel some alarm upon such occa- 



THINKS- I-TO-MYSELF. 321 

sions ; for there is such a number of us noble Clod- 
poles always growing up, (though all the nobility 
are not such Clodpoles as myself, Heaven forbid) 
but there are so many of us altogether, bright and 
dull, whose tutors and instructors have all the same 
claims and expectations, that I fear, what with this 
never-ceasing demand on the dignities, and revenues, 
and snug appointments of the church, together 
with that of natural or accidental alliances into the 
bargain, modest worth, unobtrusive merit; and un- 
protected talents, may sometimes be overlooked and 
debarred of their fair rewards. 

The Church besides, ( Thinks-I-to-myself,) is ex- 
pected to pay tribute to every other prof ession, with- 
out receiving any thing in return ; — to the State, 
to the Law, to the Army, to the Navy ; — nay, even 
to the Physical line; for, if any man's brother, 
uncle, son, son-in-law, or nephew, wife's father, or 
ivife's brother, happens to become lord chancel- 
lor, or secretary of state, or is killed in the 
command of a fleet at Sea, or of an army in the 
Field, or cures, or pretends to cure, or is supposed 
to cure, a Prince, or a Peer, or a Prelate, He, {that 
is the relation of the said distinguished person,) 
may forthwith rise as high in the Church as ever 

he pleases, without any farther ^U^u^^ 



322 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

(I was going to write qualification, but you see I 
have scratched it out ; any other ation may perhaps do 
as well, as examination, probaftow, &c. &c. &c. &c.) 
Stalls, Deaneries, nay, even Bishopricks are imme- 
diately put within his reach, though undoubtedly 
the very same pretensions could never have elevated 
him to the Bench in Westminster Hall, without 
some superior knowledge of or practice in the Latv ; 
nor procured him the command of a fleet, or of an 
army, without some naval or military talents or 
services into the bargain. 

(I do not say these things, mark me, gentle reader, 
out of any spite whatsoever to the aristocracy, (for I 
must, of course, be naturally a friend to it) nor merely 
because I happened to marry a Parson's daughter, 
but because I was bred up from a child to feel sen- 
sibly for the honour and credit of the established 
church, and therefore could not help falling occa- 
sionally into reflections of this nature, as upon other 
topics ! — else, as a Peer, I know that I should do 
most wisely to let things remain just exactly as they 
are, for there is now a great prospect that my dear 
Emily and myself may have several little Clodpoles 
to provide for, and as sinecures must needs be the 
fittest things in the world for such sine talents, I 
might as well leave the Stalls, and Deaneries, &c. 



TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 323 

&c. &c. &c. &c. &c. to help us out in the way of 
such family accommodations, as they hitherto have 
done ; — besides, that note and then, (to speak honest- 
ly,) for the very credit of the Church, I would heart- 
ily wish to see persons of high birth and distinction 
preferred ; I say now and then; but to return to my 
text, to speak ecclesiastically. — 

Mr. Mandeville has now been for some time 
(solely as I believe in virtue of my marriage with 

Emily,) Dean of A ~, Canon Residentiary of 

B , Prebendary of C — — , Chancellor and Arch- 
deacon of D — , besides holding two livings in 

(what is commonly called) the king's Gift ! 

Mr. Hargrave I hope soon to see a Bishop, if the 
present administration continue in, — not that I am 
quite sure that I shall not support their successors 
if they should happen to go out — so, that his chance 
is good either way. 

I would not have you fancy, however, worthy 
reader, that I am prepared to vote with any mini- 
ster through thick and thin ; — no, nor yet with any 
opposition in the same way. — I do not like to clog 
the wheels of the Executive Government unneces- 
sarily ; there is always much, much hard work to 
be done, and somebody must do it, and whoever 
does do it, must have the patience of Job, at least, 

y 2 



324 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

to bear the abuses to which they will be subject, 
right or wrong, and, Thinks-I-to-myself, one man 
is much like another when once in office, and if 
any great or o#£-of-the-way occurrences come to 
pass, I am still free to judge for myself, for place or 
pe?ision I have none; — -I am pledged to no mob, and 
I have not one friend or dependent who wishes to 
be served at the expense of my integrity. 

I have not mentioned a word about my introduc- 
tion at Court, because every body will conceive it 
to have taken place as a matter of course : — I can 
only say, I have never much frequented that august 
assembly, partly because I hate crowds and parade, 
and partly because I never wished to be considered 
as a mere courtier, — and as for going to Court, 
merely for going-to-court sake, so many have found 
their way there of late, who, Thinks-I-to-myself^ 
were probably, neither wanted nor expected, that 
Peers and Peeresses, I should think, might well 
have leave to stay away, if it were merely to make 
room. 

I I shall, however, take upon me to assert, (though , . 
Thinks-I-to-myself, millions, perhaps, of my fellow- 
subjects may be ready to dispute such high preten- 
sions,) that whenever I have had occasion to ap- 
proach the person of my Sovereign, he could not 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 325 

have had near him, a more attached friend, a 
more devoted servant, or a more loyal sub- 
ject. — 

Heaven bless him! — May He live long, 
and may He be happy, here and hereaf- 
ter * ! ! ! ! ! ! 

— — The Regent too 

Why, Heaven bless Him also ! 

And, Thinks-I-to-myself, since it is the way with 
Kings and Princes, to have the speeches they have 
to deliver on great and solemn occasions, prepared 
to their hands, I have one ready for our noble 
Prince, which, I think, most people will account 
particularly fit and suitable, when the time comes 
for his surrendering up his present high and most 
important trust, into the hands of his recovered 
parent.— 



There is your Crown, 



And he that wears the Crown immortally, 
Long guard it your's ; if I affect it more 
Than as your Honour, and as your Renown, 
Let me no more from this obedience rise, 
Which my most true and inward duteous spirit 
Teacheth this prostrate and exterior bending.'' 

* The date of the first publication of the work was April, 1811, 
when the general anxiety on account of his Majesty's illness was at 
the height, confident hopes being at that time entertained of bis 
speedy recovery and resumption of power. 



326 thiNks-i-to-myself. 

I defy any minister to provide one more appro- 
priate. — A few words about my Parliamentary 
duties, and I have done : — I never spoke while I 
was a member of the House of Commons, and I 
never speak now in the House of Peers, (though I 
have for some time had the honour of being one of 
the sixteen,) but while other members and other 
lords have been speaking, I confess, I have often 
thought to myself & great deal, and almost wondered 
that I never drew the attention of some of the ora- 
tors to the part I must have appeared to be taking 
in the debate : — I have sometimes almost felt as if 
some speaker would say, — " As the noble Lord 
there by the fire, (or on the opposite bench, or near 
the wool-sack) appears to be thinking." — The fact 
is, perhaps, I have generally been thinking, what 
none of them would much like to confess. 

Another thing, however, which has much deter- 
red me from speaking, is the newly-erected little 
house of Parliament in a certain city, for which 
(generally speaking,) I entertain the highest respect. 
But where, of late, the speeches and acts of the 
members of both the Lords and Commons' house, 
have been arraigned, criticised, and condemned, with 
such extreme severity, rancour, and contempt, that, 
Thinks-I-to=mysetf, sure legislating must be ten 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 327 

times easier than weighing plums or brewing beer ; 
— both very important callings at all times, and 
while pudding and ale have any charms and in- 
fluence, far more likely to be popular than any 
higher callings or professions whatsoever: — my 
hope is, therefore, that we shall soon have no need 
of Courts, and Cabinet Councils, and Privy Coun- 
cils, and grand Councils of the Realm, but that all 
the business of the nation, and all the affairs of 
Europe, may be far better settled by the Court of 
Common Council of the City of 

Envy, hatred, malice,. and all uncharita- 
bleness; from all sedition, privy conspi- 
racy and rebellion, &c. &c. &c. 

Comm. Pray. B. fol. 17. 

There is nothing to which I have ever paid more 
attention than to all cases of public or private 
grievance submitted to Parliament, because I hold 
it to be one of the first principles of our constitu- 
tion, and one for which I will ever most strenuously 
contend, that the meanest subject has a right to 
complain of any real injury, and strictly deserves to 
be heard ; and that Parliament is most imperiously 
bound to redress all such injuries and hardships 
when duly proved and made known. 

True it is, that I have occasionally heard cases 



328 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

so aggravated as to end in the arrantest " Partu- 
riant Mo?ites," that ever could be conceived : — 
many a mountain of this kind has brought forth 
scarcely so much as a mouse, after such pangs and 
throes, and alarming labours of parturition, as 
would have led one at least to expect some great 
Behemoth or Leviathan, and the noise, and parade , 
and fuss of which has often gone near to scare me 
out of my wits ; — still, I am for stopping no mouths : 
— aggravated or not aggravated, if grievances are 
but supposed to exist, I would have the case heard : 
—when I was in the House of Commons, there was 
a certain set of members* who were for ever enter- 
taining us with grievances, and as the name of one 
of them happened to be Warble*, I used to call 
them my warblers ; so sweetly did their notes ac- 
cord with my feelings ; — but while I say this in 
their praise, I must explicitly declare, that there is 
nothing I hold in greater abomination, than mur- 
muring, and grumbling, and complaining for mere 
mischief-sake ; to excite unnecessary alarm, and un- 
reasonable discontent ; — such people I hold in utte 
abhorrence, but as none such are to be found at 

* So full was this Gentleman's hands at one time of such sort of 
business, that it was said by some, (I apprehend only iivjest J that he 
actually Jcejrt a Clarke to collect and supply him with materials. 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 329 

present, I shall scarcely be understood, perhaps, 
unless I more particularly describe the exact cha- 
racter ; — about seventy-three years ago, the character 
seems to have been well understood, and, perhaps, 
much earlier ; for what I am about to transcribe, 
is from the eleventh edition of the work I refer to, 
the date of my particular copy being 1738. — 

"| At first/' says the author, " He (that is, 
the mischief-maker,) sets up for a mighty patriot, 
and pretends a great concern for his country; 
then he descants upon the great advantage of liber- 
ty, and runs through all the changes of property ; 
in his way he has a fling at the Prerogative ; and 
sets the subject above the Sovereign; — these dis- 
coveries work upon the rabble, who constitute him 
guardian of their privileges ; they give themselves 
up to his conduct, and for a pledge of their blind 
obedience, present him with their eyes and under- 
standing ; he is the only patriot in the nation, he 
alone stands in the gap, and opposes arbitrary 
designs, and prerogative innovations: the Atlas, 
that sustains liberty and defends property against 
state encroachments. 

" Now has this man more zeal for his country, 
or more religion, than his neighbour? — Not at all : 
—his concern is interest, and his religion mask 



330 THINKS-l-TO-MYSELF. 

and artifice ; his vanity at court exceeded his force, 
and his merit of fortune kept not pace with his 
ambition ; the wind blew in his teeth, and now he 
tacks about and makes for a Republic: — now 
these popular men, these men of applause, have 
two-thirds of a traitor ; and I take it for a general 
rule, that he is no good subject who runs away 
with the heart of the vulgar, their intellectuals are 
too weak, or their passions too strong to distin- 
guish truth;" — so far the book of 1738 : — I shall 
only say, Caveat Auditor, therefore, — let him that 
hath ears to hear, continual complaints from the 
same mouth, and nothing but complaints from year's 
end to year's end, beware, for Thinks- I-to-my self, 
u He that seeks perfection on earth, leaves nothing 
new for the saints to find in Heaven ; for whilst 
men teach, there will be mistakes in Divinity, and 
as long as no other govern, errors in the State ; 
— therefore, be not over-licorish after change, lest 
you muddy your present felicity with a future 
greater and more sharp inconvenience/' 

With one eye upon these hazards, and the other 
upon the imperfections incident to all human under- 
takings, I ever most conscientiously apply my best 
efforts and influence, to rectify and ameliorate 
whatever appears to me really capable of rectifica- 



THIN KS-I-TO-MYS ELF. 331 

tion and amelioration, without exciting or foment- 
ing a greater spirit of discontent and uneasiness, 
than the real state of the case, after all fair allow- 
ances, shall seem to warrant. — Clodpole as I am, 
I am not so blind or stupid as never to see any- 
thing that w r ants mending or putting to rights in 
the great vessel of the state, but knowing the 
extreme delicacy and beauty of the machinery on 
which all its movements, and all its advantages 
depend, Thinks-I-to-myself, Heaven forbid that 
any very rough or inexpert hands should ever be 
entrusted with its repair or renovation ' 

" Thee, — native nook of Earth; — though squeez'd 
By public exigence 'till annual food 
-» Fails for the craving hunger of the State, 

Thee I account still happy, and the chief 
Among the nations, seeing thou art free ; 
And being free, I love thee ; for the sake 
Of that one feature can be well content, 
Disturb 'd as thou hast been, poor as thou art, 
To seek no sublunary rest beside." 

And now, I have fairly brought my narrative ta 
an end; (Thinks-I-to-myself, how glad you will all 
be to hear of it!) if, however, any-body should 
wish to know more about me, as for instance, the 
very year when I succeeded to the title, how many 
children I have, how old 1 am now, in what street 



332 TH1NKS-I-T0-MYSELF. 

J live, &c. &c. let them look to the list of Scotch 
Peers in the red book under K, or in any of the 
Peerages under the title Kilgarnock, and, of 
course, they will find all these particulars at full 
length ; and if they should have heads clear enough 
to make out what relation I am to the first Earl of 
Tay-and-Tumble, I will freely acknowledge them 
to be much cleverer than I ever pretended to be. 

What, for instance, will they make of the fol- 
lowing string of parentheses which occur in the very 
middle of my grand pedigree ? (which John, son of 
the said James, by his wife Bridgetina, daughter 
and co-heiress of Archibald Frazer, cousin-german 
to Simon, fourth Earl of Tay-and-Tumble, in virtue 
of his descent in a right line, from Margaret, grand- 
daughter of O'Brien, the second Earl, which Mar- 
garet, (who died in childbed of her thirteenth 
child,) was wife to Sir David Carnagie, of Carnagie, 
in the County of Clackmannan, Knight, second son 
of Montgomery Carnagie, of Kincardine, by Doro- 
thea Eliza, daughter of John Gordon, Earl of Tul- 
libumkin, and niece to the first Lord Baldonemore, 
sometime grand-huntsman to King Malcolm II.) 
(from whom are descended the Baldonemores of 
Craigraddock in Kincardine,) by whom she had 
five daughters and seven sons, videlicet, Clotilda, 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 333 

(married to the Lord de Nithesdale,) who died, 
leaving issue, Charles, (married to Eleonora, grand- 
daughter to Robert, fifth Earl of Belgarvy,) Robert, 
and Alice, — Mary, — Isabella, — Jemima, (who all 
died young,) Anne, (married first, Sir David Bruce 
of Fingask, secondly, Constantine Lord Viscount 
Lochmaben, by whom she had three sons and as 
many daughters, and thirdly, a common soldier 
named Duncan Macleod,) Alexander, (first Lord of 

Strathbogy,) Charles, William,-- — Patrick, — 

Adam, — James, — Thomas, — David, — and Cosmo^ 
— from which Cosmo, (who married Jemima, fourth 
daughter of John, son of Robert, Earl of Tay-and- 
Tumble, — nephew of Nicodemus Baron Kilgar- 
nock,) is derived the present noble family of Kil- 
garnock, (who intermarrying, &c. &c. &c. &c.) that 
is, some how or other got among the Dermonts, 
and so finally settled in me, the Clodpole, now 
head of this illustrious house; — who, I hope, all 
sleep quietly in their graves, for if any of them 
were to arise, I am sure I should not know one 
of them. 

In short, I suppose the Heralds know who I am, 
and how I came to be what I am, and therefore I 
am satisfied : otherwise, if my honours all depended 
on my own understanding of my own descent from 



334 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

my great ancestor the first Earl of Tay-and-Tumble, 
I will freely acknowledge I should give up my 
peerage at once ; for upon the most diligent search 
I can make into matters, it still appears to me, 
that all my dignities depend, first, on my father's 
great aunt having neither father nor mother, and 
secondly, on my great grand-mother's being brother 
to the sister of one of the old Lord Tay-and-Tum- 
ble's uncle's cousins : — there may possibly be some 
misprints and perplexities in the peerages I have 
examined, as 1 find many of the like kind in those 
of other families, and therefore who knows but that 
other Peers have been as much puzzled as myself: 
— I confess, how my father's great aunt could have 
neither father nor mother, seems to me, as nearly as 
can be, inexplicable, yet so the matter stands ac- 
cording to the books ; and I therefore feel bound 
in honour to mention it, for fear any of my readers 
should think I am deceiving them. 

(On looking back I see there is one important 
matter I have accidentally forgotten to mention, 
viz. that in a little time after my grand hymeneals, 
and Miss Twist's stolen wedding with young Mus- 
ter Dash, poor Mrs. Fidget died of a cancer^on her 
tongue ! 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 335 

And now, Thinks- I-to-my self, I have quite, en- 
tirely, done. 

Gentle Reader! As you and I may never 
meet again, 



FARE THEE WELL ! 



APPENDIX. 



AS INSERTED WHEN THE WORK APPEARED IN 
TWO VOLUMES. 



When the public did me the high honour of call- 
ing for a seventh edition of Thinks- I-to-my self, at 
the close of the year 1811, I judged it to be right 
and proper to prepare a Preface for iltat edition, 
in which I might express my obligations, and enter 
into some explanation of a few points of importance 
to my feelings at that particular period. What I 
then found to say occupied more pages than I ex- 
pected, and thereby augmented the size of the first 
volume beyond its due proportion. 

To the eighth edition I was under the necessity 
of adding still more, so that now the second volume 
looks so thin and slim, and unequal to the iirst, 
that for the sake of my customers, that is, were 
it merely to relieve their eyes, and give no offence 
to the order and symmetry of their book-cases, 
I should undoubtedly feel bound to subjoin some 
sort of Postscript or Appendix, to balance the pre- 

z 



338 APPENDIX. 

fatory matter in my first volume, but as it happens, 
I actually have something still to say, connected 
immediately with the book itself. But you may 
read it, or let it alone, as you please, Madam ; no 
offence either way. 

In the first volume of this Ninth Edition you will 
find, not only the Preface to the seventh edition re- 
printed, but that prefixed to the eighth also; and 
you will there see what a trick has been played 
you and me, in the case of a book called " I says, 
says I; 99 but the trick is still carried on. Adver- 
tise as I will, counter advertisements are immedi- 
ately inserted in the papers to invalidate my own 
most peremptory assertions. Not long ago I found 
it to be indispensably necessary to publish the fol- 
lowing notice. (Abundance of beautiful young 
ladies, five or six very old ones, many officers in 
the army and navy, two retired judges, a sick pre- 
late, and a hundred circulating librarians, having, 
according to information, actually fallen into the 
snare.) 

-THE AUTHOR of THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF 
still finds it necessary to caution the public against 
being deceived by the novel entitled " I SAYS, 
SAYS I," repeatedly advertised as, " being from 
the pen of Thinks- I-to-myself. 9 ' An account at large 






APPENDIX. 339 

of the strange attempts made to mislead the public 
upon this head may be found in the eighth edition 
of " Thbiks-I-to-myself" now selling by Sherwood, 
Neely and Jones, Paternoster Row, Hatchard and 
Asperne." 

But as often as this appeared I was immediately 
met by anew edition of the following contradictory 
notice — 

THINKS-I-TO-MYSELFS new work. I SAYS, 
SAYS I, in 2 vols 12mo. Stc. The author has to 
apologise to his friends and the public in general, 
for the unavoidable delay which has taken place in 
this edition, and begs to request they will be par- 
ticular in ordering " I says, says I," as several 
attempts have been made endeavouring to lead 
them astray, by asserting it not to be from the pen 
of " Thinks- I-to-my self," and for which he has offered 
a reward of FIFTY POUNDS to those who can 
prove it to the contrary." 

And thus matters stand at this moment. I 
have no other means left me, than this, of reassert- 
ing my own innocence. It is in vain that I plead 
not guilty generally, and put myself on the trial of 
my country. My judges and jury are not to be 
found in any ordinary court of justice; they are 
dispersed abroad; I cannot appear before them 



Ji4Q APPENDIX. 

personally; they must decide according to such 
evidence only as is accidentally brought before 
them, and with the above advertisement continu- 
ally staring them in the face, you may guess, gen- 
tle reader, how liable they are to be misled, and 
how very much some of the witnesses feel them- 
selves to be under the obligation of speaking " the 
truth, the WHOLE truth, and NOTHING BUT 
the TRUTH !" In fact, I happen to know, that 
I have been tried upon the above evidence, and found 
guilty, not only of the writing and publication of 
" I says, says I," but of 

SAD FALLINGS OFF! 

Ih the fabrication of it, and grievous peculation 
in making so unsatisfactory a demand on the 
pockets of the public. I know that I have been 
pronounced unequal to myself in this my second ap- 
pearance ; witlings have triumphed over the sud- 
den evaporation of my spirit, and rivals have re- 
joiced at the mernifest diminution of my powers. 

Against the author himself however, since his 
book is not immoral or of bad tendency, I must 
declare that I feel no heavy resentment, only I 
think, that instead of his proffered reward of fifty 
pounds for the discovery of such a mare's nest, as 
he proposes, it would be much more handsome 



APPENDIX. 341 

and liberal in him, to pay into my booksellers' 
hands, a moiety at the least of the above sum, or of 
his profits, to reimburse me the expences of the 
advertisements I have been compelled, through his 
officiousness, to insert in divers newspapers, and 
which, for what I know, I may still have to repeat. 
To lose one's credit, and one's money too, upon 
such an occasion, is certainly " enough," as the 
saying is, " to make a parson swear." 

But since the first appearance of " I says, says 
I," many more works have been published, nomi- 
nally connected in some way or other, with my 
book. I mentioned some of these, as about to 
make their appearance in my last preface. Since 
then, they and others have issued from the press, 
to the amount of eleven volumes at the least. So 
many having actually passed through my hands. 

The author of the book called, " Metropolitan 
Grievances" by 

ONE WHO THINKS FOR HIMSELF, 
and which was advertised when my last edition 
went to press, appears only to have imitated my 
title. To this gentleman therefore I have nothing 
more to say, than, much good may it do him ! 

As to the book itself, " Metropolitan Grievances" 
is undoubtedly but a dismal topic, and were I a par- 



342 APPENDIX. 

son; a c/er/co- writer, as some have been pleased to 
denominate me, you will, I am sure readily suppose, 
that in thinking FOR myself, I should be more 
likely to have my eye upon certain Metropolitan 
comforts and delights, which shall be nameless. 
So that with all such persons at least, I shall, I 
trust, of course, stand entirely acquitted of being 
the author of any such work as this. 

The next work that appeared in the course of 
the last year, connected with my book, was ad- 
vertised as, 
AN ANSWER TO THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF, 
entitled " I'll Consider of it." A Tale in 3 vols. 
12mo. in which " Thinks-I-to-myself/' is partially 
considered. 

No, Ma am, not partially in the sense you appre- 
hend ; with any particular bias, that is, in my fa 
vour, but here a little, and there a little ; in bits 
and scraps as it were; indeed the author had bet- 
ter have put Impartially considered, for he both 
praises and abuses me, for which I like him the 
better. He thinks me sadly stupid in some parts, 
but then to my comfort, he seems to wonder at it, 
because I appear so clever in others. He ventures 
to declare me, " a good-natured man," yet accuses 
me in one place of a most wanton act of cruelty* 



APPENDIX. 343 

He has the sense to discover that I am one that 
writes at random, " whatever comes uppermost," 
and yet supposes me studious of inserting many- 
fooleries merely to eke out my book. He seems 
to be all wonder and astonishment that such a work 
as the one you have just been reading, should 
ever have reached SIX editions, and that ladies 
should have been detected " running from library 
to library, crazy to get hold of it," as he is pleased 
to describe things ; but I myself have wondered at 
this also over and over again ; quite as much per- 
haps as even the author of " FU Consider of it." 
He is at the pains to caution me against going too 
far ; he thinks me desperately bold to attempt a 
SEVENTH edition; he reminds me that SEVEN 
is a fatal number, and ventures to affirm, that had 
I but done as his own book recommends, had I, that 
is, but considered of it, I should never have risked 
a seventh edition ; but really I needed not this cau- 
tion. I had considered of it, as my printer could 
prove, before I went to press with any edition ; 
and as it happens, I have it to state, as rather a 
comical fact, that before it fell in my way to read 
this author's kind caution and advice, my seventh 
edition w 7 as not only printed and published, but 
sold, and my eighth edition sent to the press. I 
could not have done otherwise; as I had not then 



344 APPENDIX. 

seen his book, it could not be done in contempt of 
his prudent advice, and prophecies ; but since the 
world is so good-natured as to like to see itself 
laughed at, and so wise as to bear with patience a 
few gentle reproofs, could I do otherwise than ad- 
mire its complacency, and feed such humours ? I 
have considered of this ninth edition pretty much 
before I suffered it to go to press. I am told the 
demand will justify it. If it sells, well and good : 
if not, I shall be satisfied to make my veiy hand- 
somest bow to the public for past favours, and re- 
tire to my pristine state of obscurity. 

But it is time to say something of this gentle- 
man's partial or impartial criticisms. 

The following, as far as I can perceive, is a cor- 
rect catalogue of the heaviest transgressions and 
offences of which he accuses me. 

Incongruities ; 

Puerilities ; 

Book-filling contrivances 
and 

Subterfuges ; 

Coarse wit; 

Wanton digressions ; 

Ignorance 
and 

Cruelty !— 



APPENDIX. 345 

To some of these, I have already ingenuously 
pleaded guilty, apologized or accounted for them, 
in the preface to my Seventh edition ; particularly 
the too frequent bumpings of my hero's heart, my 
digressions, book-filling contrivances, &c. &c. and 
to the charge of " coarse wit" I have one very 
ready reply, namely, that though it was never in- 
serted with a view of raising such ideas as appear 
to have struck this gentleman's imagination, and 
that of a few others, yet the moment I knew, that 
by that single passage, (for only one charge of this 
kind, thank my stars, has ever been advanced 
against my writings) I really had excited such ideas, 
the passage was expunged, and I am much mis- 
taken if the author of u I'll Consider of it," would 
find it in any edition but the very one, that, (by his 
own acknowledgment, in another part of his book,) 
he happened to read. At all events, it is not in any 
of the earliest, or any of the latest editions, so that 
I hope the damage done by this small scrap of coarse 
wit has at least not been very extensive. 

My incongruities are confounded in some degree 
with my book-filling contrivances, and literary sub* 
ierfuges. It is, it seems, incongruous, for such a 
clever gentleman as I appear, to be in some parts of 
my book, to use such long unwitty word as decom- 



346 APPENDIX. 

positions, fermentations, sublimations, &c. &c. and 
" why," says the learned critic, " betray such seem- 
ing lack of wit, as to put A, B, C, down to IzzardV 
<f Why not," says he, " put Z ? It would have 
taken less room." — 

I bow, with all humility, and with the most pro- 
found submission to this reproof. I cannot but 
acknowledge Z would have taken less room than 
Izzard, to the full extent of at least, three tenths of 
an inch in a page of only four inches wide and 
seven long. To that extent I do acknowledge I 
have in this instance trespassed upon the pockets 
of the public, without any absolute necessity ; and 
in the case of the long unwitty words before men- 
tioned, I am also willing to admit, that I had no 
other' necessity for introducing them whatsoever, 
than the absolute impossibility of expressing my 
meaning without them. Such a use of terms may 
not be altogether witty, but I am to think the 
greatest Aristarchus in the world would allow it to 
be wise. 

My Puerilities are to be found in the facsimile 
of my hero's love-laboured sonnet, and the repeti- 
of the small letter r at the end of the word " dear," 
to denote the vehemency of his passion ; but are 
these puerilities after all ? I ask the question be- 



APPENDIX. 347 

cause I meant them myself for something very 
near to puerilities. I meant them evidently for 
juvenilities, suitable to the age and temperament of 
my hero, as described in the book itself. Juvenili- 
ties therefore they ought to be, or I should have 
fallen into another error, and added one more to 
the critic's list of incongruities. I leave this then 
to the judgment of the reader. Though I might 
not be bound to write like a boy in this case, I was 
certainly bound to wnrite like a youth ; like a silly 
romantic youth too, over head and ears in love ; 
and what Reader would have been satisfied with 
the measured steps of a grave formalist, or the dull 
apathy of a verbal critic ? I leave it to any pas- 
sionate lover to determine whether M my dear, dear, 
" dear, dear, dea, de, drrrrrr Emily," foolish as 
it looks, does not seem to express more than " my 
w dear Emily/' short and abrupt, and without any 
tail at all ? 

My " book-filling contrivances" and " subterfuges^ 
are discovered in the multiplicity of my love-bum- 
pings, before spoken of, Lord Kilgamock's pedi- 
gree, Cries of London, and digressions in general. 
On some of these heads I must refer as before to 
the preface to my Seventh edition. He seems to 
think the introduction of Lord Kilgarnock's genea- 



348 APPENDIX. 

logy unnecessary. I can't take upon me to decide 
this point ; I know to what purpose I meant it to 
be necessary, and I believe in many instances it 
has answered ; if the author of " I'll Consider of it/' 
has not found it out, I cannot help it. Mirth is 
mirth, and fun is fun, but not to all alike. " Quic- 
" quid recipitur ad modum recipientis," &c. 

I can only say therefore Let those laugh that 

can. — 

With one of my digressions, and I grant it is a 
pretty long one, this author seems disposed to find 
great fault. I mean in what I have said in my 
second volume, upon the subject of servants. He 
commiserates them generally as " a race of un- 
" taught beings, whose subordination to their fel- 
u low-mortals, is certainly an infliction in itself — 
u let us ever reflect," says he, that " where little 
" is given, little will be required." 

Though I cannot mean to be actually ludicrous 
in the face of such a reference as this Author here 
makes, yet I hope it will not be indecorous to ob- 
serve, that possibly, in the opinion of very many, 
the subordination, or at least subjection to fellow- 
mortals, be it what infliction it may, is, as things 
stand at present, more on the side of masters and 
mistresses, than on that of servants, and that in 



APPENDIX. 349 

too many cases, (the very root possibly of all the 
evils we have to deplore) much is very foolishly 
given, where little is required, and less performed. 
He discovers one of my " incongruities" in praising 
old servants, and yet citing Seneca, &c. to prove 
that they were as bad as bad could be, above 500 
years ago. The fact is, that though servants might 
have Been bad in Seneca s time, (or rather in Pe- 
trarch's, for he makes a great mistake about my book 
in this place) and though they may have been worse 
at some other times than now, there did undoubt- 
edly exist, in times not very distant, a race of ser- 
vants in this country, (and in other countries too, 
as appears from my quotation of the Tableau de 
Paris of the celebrated Mercier, vol. ii. 151,) 
which it would be a happiness to see restored. 
Servants not given to change ; proud of living long 
in the same places, and happy to live long with the 
same masters. Servants, that so far from com- 
bining against their employers, (a foible by the by, 
which the author of " 111 Consider of it," thinks 
too common in great families to need to be noticed 
publicly) or finding fault with the accommodations 
provided for them, would have resented nothing 
more than any insult or injury, open or covert, 
aimed either at the persdns or the property of their 



350 APPENDIX. 

lords ; who felt proud of the honour, the reputation, 
the prosperity and stability of their master's family ; 
and had no wish, beyond that of sharing all his for- 
tunes, and administering to all his wants. Such 
servants there once were, and that not so long ago 
as the days of Seneca or Lucilius, or even Petrarch, 
but in our own days. I have seen and known 
them % and have a right therefore to pronounce 

* In proof of this I shall now venture to add the following note. 
In my own family lived the counterpart of the old nurse described in 
my 2d vol. She had some old-fashioned prejudices, but she was alto- 
gether a truly faithful and attached dependant. I know not exactly 
her age when she died, but she ended her days not many years ago, 
a pensioner upon the family ; some idea of her attachment to us may 
be formed from the following circumstances. I know that she lived 
with my father's father ; and my father died aged 70, in the year 1786. 
She nursed eleven, and attended upon seven of us, during the whole 
of our childhood ; upon the marriage of my eldest sister, she passed 
into her family, nursed and attended upon all her children, and sur- 
vived my sister. Upon whose decease, being destitute of a home, 
and having lost sight of all her own relations, the family offered to 
provide for her in any way she chose ; the utmost of her wishes was, 
to be removed to the parish where we had all been born and bred, to 
live there the remainder of her days, and be buried near the family 3 
all which took place according to her desire. 

But to shew that masters may find it to be their interest to improve 
this connection, as well as servants ; I shall subjoin one other account, 
because it happened so lately as to be almost contemporary with the 
publication of Thinks-I-to-myself, and might easily be verified. 
Early in the year 1811, a servant of my own died in my house, who 
bequeathed to me several hundred pounds, and would have left me 



APPENDIX. 351 

them to be, among the greatest of earthly blessings, 
to those whose rank in life, renders such an esta- 
blishment becoming and necessary. There may be 
many such now, but I fear by no means so many as 
there used to be. 

But what were masters and mistresses in those 
days? generally speaking, much more wise and 
prudent, and much less fantastical than in the pre- 
sent day. They were prouder of their old servants, 
than modern masters and mistresses are of their 
young ones. They looked for solid good qualities 
and found them, and cherished and encouraged 
them when found ; now too many look for any 
thing but those old-fashioned good qualities ; they 
had rather have a smart servant than a sober one ; 
a knotting dashing one, as the phrase is, than an 
honest and humble one \ they are more anxious a 



more had I not interposed to prevent it; he left me in short more 
than I had ever paid him in wages, and nothing conld exceed his gra- 
titude and regard, as expressed openly in the last moments of his ex- 
istence. I relate these things, to shew first that I meant no harm in 
what I have said of servants ; and 2d] y, to encourage as much as pos- 
sible the improvement of a connection which must always subsist, as 
the world is constituted, but which I am confident, can never subsist 
in any perfection, but where the duties of both master and servant 
are governed and directed by the pure principles of Christianity ; a 
religion which regards alike the bond and the free. 



352 APPENDIX. 

thousand times to have one that will look well and 
do them credit in public, than one that will act well 
and consult their credit in private. And what 
wonder, if this " race of untaught beings," as the 
author of " I'll Consider of it," calls them, should 
in consequence of these demands, study dress more 
than character ; pride themselves more upon their 
figure than tlieir fitness ; assume where they ought 
to be submissive, and complain where they ought 
to be thankful. 

I would give the world to see this connection 
put once more upon its proper footing. I wish all 
servants to be happy and comfortable, temporally 
and spiritually ; I wish them well paid, well clothed, 
well fed ; but yet treated also as accountable beings, 
who have s5uls to save, as well as bodies to dress 
and adorn. Let honesty, sobriety, civility, fidelity, 
good temper, chastity, and above all, religious prin- 
ciples, be accounted, without any exception, the 
brightest gems in their character, and let these be 
encouraged and rewarded in every way consistent 
with prudence. Exhilarate the labours of the day 
by a plentiful board, and dismiss them at night 
with the greetings of friendship and equality in 
joint addresses to your common Creator, in family 
prayer. 



APPENDIX. 353 

Could I but address servants themselves, as I 
here address the masters and mistresses of this 
great nation, I would say to them, submit not to 
be made the mere puppets of a raree-show. Offer 
yourselves as friends to your employers, rather than 
the mere supports of their pageantry. Tell them 
you w r ish more to have your souls saved, than your 
bodies pampered ; your virtues respected, than your 
persons admired : and that if they have no value 
for honesty, piety, sobriety, and fidelity, as para- 
mount to every thing else, you had rather decline 
their service. Would but all masters act as true 
Christians ou^ht to do towards their servants, and 
all servants in like manner towards their masters, 
this life w r ould be rid of more than half of its great- 
est discomfitures and vexations, and we might all 
hope not only to live more harmoniously together 
here, but to meet again hereafter in such ameliora- 
ted circumstances, as must conduce to the joy and 
happiness and satisfaction of all parties. A servant 
is not a son, but he is a part of your family ; a 
master is not a father, but he is entitled to your 
reverence and obedience. Why should it not be 
every servant's determination to study his master's 
will, and why should not every master seek to ob- 
tain his servant's just esteem and regard ? Do not 

a a 



354 APPENDIX. 

overlook their faults, but encourage and reward 
their virtues. Above all do not set them ill ex- 
amples. 

I feel an inclination to thank the author of " I'll 
a Consider of it," for giving me an opportunity of 
explaining myself somewhat at large upon this 
head ; it is a part of my book I should be sorry to 
have misunderstood. It has been looked upon, I 
know, as so mere a digression, that some have de- 
clined to read it, and others that have read it, have 
totally mistaken its intent. My book, in the nature 
of things, is at best but a fable. Some have dis- 
covered its moral at first sight ; some require, I 
find, to have it drawn out at length for them. The 
quick readers please me best, yet the slow shall be 
accommodated to the utmost of my power. I can- 
not undertake to make those who are not humour- 
ists feel humour, but I trust I can defend the mo- 
rality and design of every part of my book ; deli- 
berately to give offence I should scorn, but not to 
succeed in some instances in giving satisfaction, is 
the lot of all authors. I used to wonder how the 
Bible which is altogether but one small book, could 
possibly be understood in so many different ways, 
as appears to be the case ; the comments, however, 
upon my own trumpery writings have clearly con- 



APPENDIX. 355 

vinced me, that to read is one thing, but to under- 
stand is another, and that the thesis 1 quoted be- 
fore, of " Quicquid incipitur,'' &c. may best help 
us to an understanding of the common course of 
things. But I have been grave long enough ; let 
us now return to lighter matters, for such, I trust, 
what follows, notwithstanding the nature of the 
charges, will fully appear to be. 

The last two charges brought against me by the 
author of " I'll Consider of it," are those of igno- 
rance and cruelty ! — I am happy to say they are 
single charges ; one instance of ignorance, and one 
of cruelty, are the utmost he has found in the com- 
pass of my two volumes. I shall notice both as 
they occur ; and first as to the charge of ignorance ; 
I well know that I am ignorant of many things, I 
ought rather perhaps to say of most things : so that 
I am not disposed to combat this charge generally. 

I plead guilty to ignorance, but not to cruelty. 
I plead guilty even to the particular charge of igno- 
rance, in this case adduced; I do acknowledge, 
with all deference and humility, that in regard to 
Lord Kilgarnock's chilblains (the case insisted upon 
by this learned critic) I may have blundered, and 
spoken ignorantly and unscientifically of those dis- 
eases of the lower extremities. To counteract the 
a a 2 



356 . APPENDIX. 

effect of my own dulness and defect of nosological 
precision, I think it my duty to subjoin at length, 
the able, useful, and scientific remarks of the au- 
thor of this Armoer to " Thinks-I-to-myself." 

" This old nurse remembered Lord Kilgarnock's 
" chilblains, then master Bobby, which it was very 
" unlikely he should be so sadly afflicted with as 
" he describes ; being, as he tells us in the first 
" volume, a very sickly child, always kept quiet 
" and warm, no doubt, with his mother. Such 
" children scarce ever have chilblains; it is the 
" robust child, or the poor man's bare-footed boy, 
" that wades through snow, and is seldom at the 
7 fire till after dark, then incautiously puts his feet 
" to that opposite element, and the next morning 
'? again encounters the inclemency of the weather, 
" or the humid and penetrating thaw ; but master 
'• Bobby, always cosseted, and almost tied to his 
" mother's apron string, was not likely to be so 
" violently afflicted with this disagreeable com- 
u plaint, as he makes his nurse describe." Vol. III. 
p. 129. 

As this author quotes me chapter and verse, that 
is, volume and page, according to all the regular 
forms of criticism, I cannot help observing, as some 
sort of defence against the above charge, that if he 



APPENDIX. 357 

would but do me the honour to compare, vol. I. 
p. 7, of my book, with vol. II. p. 158*, putting on 
his best pebble spectacles, that he may see clearer 
than common, he will probably be able to make 
out, that though master Bobby is described to have 
been, to a certain degree, sickly, he was stronger in 
some respects than the rest of the family ; so that 
perhaps he might not be altogether too weak for 
chilblains, after all. Critics ought to look into 
every crack and corner of the books they criticize, 
for fear of any such lurking inuendoes as these, 
that may invalidate their arguments. I am, how- 
ever, not unwilling to confess the exact truth; 
namely, that I really did not take time, when I was 
writing my book, to consider, whether master Bob- 
by's chilblains were natural or praeter-natural ; were 
they the former, according to the author of " I'll 
" Consider of it," they must have been a sort of 
lusus natura, and therefore very curious ; were they 
the latter, it evidently tends to raise our ideas of 
the extraordinary character of my hero, and to in- 
duce a belief, th&t he was, as all heroes ought to 
be, something very much out of the common way. 

I have still to notice the alarming charge of 
cruelty advanced against me, and lo ! and behold ! 
here it is, in all its hideous features. 

* See pages 19 and 148 of this Edition. 



358 APPENDIX. 

* Lord Kilgamock," it seems, " in the con- 
" elusion of Thinks-I-to-myself, is happy with his 
" Emily and his children ; why then, though only 
" in fiction, punish poor Mrs. Fidget so severely ?" 
For, " there is no proportion between a little country 
" scandal, or village gossiping, and a cancel* on 
" the tongue, a malady the most dreadful of all 
" in the whole catalogue of miseries !" I'll Consi- 
der of it, vol. III. pp. 1, 2, and p. 130. 

The unfortunate passage alluded to, is judged, 
by the author of " Pll Consider of it," to be a 
plain proof of my cruelty ; but the critical reviewer, 
I well remember, accounts it a most absurd attempt 
at humour ! humour and cruelty ! — What a black 
heart I must have to be cruel and humourous at 
the same time ! When I see such strange things 
attributed to me, I am almost tempted to cry out 
with Job, " O that mine adversary had written a 
" book." The plain history of the business, to the 
best of my belief, is this, (and possibly many would 
give me credit for it without this explanation) I do 
not think that when I penned that passage, I 
thought at all about the proportions alluded to ; I 
might be thinking of Mrs. Fidget's tongue, but very 
little indeed of the actual torments of a cancer. I 
was only desirous to impress the following brief re- 



APPENDIX. 359 

collections on the minds of my readers. As every 
Mrs. Fidget in the world must die, let them take 
care of their tongues while they live. I do not wish 
to inflict upon them any maladies whatsoever; 
much less " the most dreadful of all in the whole 
" catalogue of miseries !" Heaven forbid ; only, 
as I said before, let them look to their tongues. 
Had I merely been seeking to torment poor Mrs. 
Fidget, her cancer might as well have been any 
where else, but having been placed on her tongue, 
who can pretend to say, that the continual excite- 
ment and irritation of over-much talking, gossiping 
and scandal, may not have contributed at least to 
determine if to that part ? I say who can tell ? and 
if by any chance, it should really have been so, let 
all those who would avoid the effect, avoid the ex- 
citing cause, and they may be assured that I shall 
be perfectly satisfied ; nay, much better pleased to 
have all their tongues, pure, perfect, and uncon- 
taminated* than exposed to any maladies or infir- 
mities whatsoever, moral or physical. 

I have now gone through all the serious charges 
alleged against me by the author of P I'll Consi- 
" der of it." The following I shall barely notice, 
out of respect to the learned critic, for the great 



360 APPENDIX. 

pains he appears to have taken to detect my blun- 
ders, as well as to notice my excellencies. 

I am blamed for describing a lad or youth of 
Mr. Dermont's age, vol. I. p. 40*, as capable of 
" hiding behind a bookcase;" but my expression 
happens to be " in a nook by the book-case" This 
makes some difference. 

I am blamed for representing the same young- 
gentleman, who generally kept his mother com- 
pany, as acquainted with such slang names as " old 
u nick," vol. I. p. 13+. I beg pardon for this; I 
know old nick has a pretty large circle of acquain- 
tance, young and old, rich and poor ; perhaps the 
author of u HI Consider of it," was not introduced 
to him before he arrived at the years of discretion, 
but I believe this is not commonly the case, and at all 
events, better a little too soon than a little too late. 

In speaking of my book in one case, he talks of 
" a mouse-like birth of a mountainous labour ;" I 
can't quite understand what he means, but shall 
venture to say that the reverse would be precisely 
applicable to Thinks-I-to-myself ; the labour of it 
Jiaving been mouse-like, and its birth mountainous. 
Nothing could come out more quietly than it did, 
and few things could make a greater noise than it 

* See \\ 70. t See p. oo. 



APPENDIX. 361 

did, after it was once delivered to the world; much 
to my own astonishment as I have already stated 
more than once. 

One discovery this author boasts of having made, 
which I am proud to report; he is convinced it 
seems that I am an Irishman, from the kind-hearted 
and liberal feeling I express towards John Bull, 
vol. II. p. 95*. But he is pleased to add, that he 
is " sure honest Pat loves his brother Bull better 
" than John loves him ;" I hope not. I trust the re- 
gard is mutual and reciprocal ; John certainly has 
got rather the largest estate, and may seem to treat 
Pat sometimes like a younger brother ; but I am 
pretty certain, let people say what they will, that 
he really loves him most affectionately, and wishes 
to see him get forward in the world, and is much 
too proud of the family connection, not to stand by 
him upon all emergencies. That Pat loves a Ball I 
pretend not to deny, but that he loves John Bull 
better than John Bull loves him, is, I trust and be- 
lieve, a complete Irish blunder. 

And now I think I may entirely have done with 
the author of " I'll Consider of it/' except that I 
am desirous of adding that I have read his book 
all through, (not merely the parts applicable to 

* See p. 35T. 



362 APPENDIX. 

myself, as he supposes looiild be the case,) and that I 
am ready to declare that the principles and senti- 
ments displayed in it, are such as do the author 
honour, and fully reconcile me to the burthen laid 
upon my shoulders, in the strictures and partial 
considerations he has thought proper to bestow 
upon poor " Thinks- I-to-myself." 

The next work Ihave to notice was advertised as a 

PARODY ON THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF, 
with a title so whimsical that I shall give it at 
length. 

" One Night ! which was begun one Day, and 
is now brought to a conclusion without being 
finished ; yet containing some things worth begin- 
ning, which like eternity, will have no end ; 
amongst others, the singular opinions of the author 
himself, and last, not least, a practical illustration 
of the art of procrastination. " 

Did you ever hear any thing like it, gentle 
reader ? the parody on my book seems to consist, 
in this gentleman's having " f AowgA^-to-himself/' 
the strangest jumble of odd and unaccountable 
things that could enter into any man's head. Two 
pages of ridicule indeed are bestowed upon my 
manner of writing, and an arch guess given at my 
name ; at the expencc, however, of a worthy ma- 



APPENDIX. 363 

gistrate, who I fear may not like to be rendered so 
conspicuous ; except indeed, that though his name 
appears in capitals, he need not be ashamed of the 
character assigned to him. He is merely spoken 
of as a lover of truth; a truly magisterial virtue, 
and no doubt very justly attributed to the learned 
gentleman in question. How far he may like to 
be accounted my brother is another thing, but I 
can promise him, that I have no objection to any 
man's making out the relationship, who chooses to 
be at the pains to do it. 

My seventh edition seems to have set this gentle- 
man about writing, as was the case with the au- 
thor of H I'll Consider of it," for thus, the author 
of this Parody expresses himself at the very begin- 
ning of his book. " And now, when ' Thinks-I- 
" to-myself ' is entering upon its seventh period of 
"renovation within the ninth month of its birth, 
" surely that which was done by the author of 
" Nubilia may be done by me :" — that is, why 
should not he set out as my " cor-rival, and co- 
equal," as Nubilia accompanied Ccelebs? I am 
sure I know no reason why he should not, if he 
chooses it; I only know, that I shall never return 
the compliment ; never pretend to appear in public 
as the cor-rival and co-equal of so illustrious and 



364 APPENDIX. 

extraordinary a writer, as this gentleman appears 
to be ; for his book answers to his title admirably. 
It is almost as unintelligible, and altogether as un- 
accountable. I shall only dispute one point with 
this author ; if he pretends to maintain that all his 
opinions stated in this book are singula?*, as his ti- 
tle declares, I cannot grant it. Some of his expres- 
sions are indeed singular enough, and his style en- 
tirely so, but certain of his opinions, on moral, 
political and religious subjects, are, I must insist 
upon it, common both to him and me. 

The last work I have to notice, was announc- 
ed as, 
A COMPANION TO THINKS-I-TO-MY- 

SELF, 
with the title of " She says to her Neighbour, 
" what?' 2 in 4 volumes. 

The author of this work says so little of Thinks- 
I-to-myself, that I have very little to say to him 
only, I feel bound to thank him for the high com- 
pliment he pays me at the beginning of his book, 
a compliment I feel the more, because it seems to 
come from a quarter in every w 7 ay respectable. 
The writer calls himself " an old Englishman" I 
like this designation ; which, before I opened his 
book, appeared to me, to bespeak a congeniality of 



APPENDIX. 365 

feeling and sentiment, that excited no small interest 
in my breast ; and the perusal of the book quite 
answered my expectations. The language is chaste 
and unaffected, many of the sentiments noble, and 
the principles inculcated, excellent. I have often 
been asked the name of this author ; I really know 
it not, but am very proud to have his approbation 
of " Thinks-I-to-myself," so publicly recorded. It 
may be a friend whom I am commending, or it 
may be, as it appears to be, a perfect stranger. I 
can only say, that were it an open enemy, I would 
not for the world say less of his book, than that it 
interested me greatly, and is highly to be recom- 
mended for its religious and moral tendency. 

I have still to notice another incident closely 
connected with Thinks-I-to-myself. In a sort of 
postscript to the preface to my eighth edition, I ob- 
served, that a song was said to be written, bearing 
allusion to my book, and introduced into some of 
our theatrical exhibitions, and I happened to ex- 
press a hope, that it might be, " chaste, moral, and 
correct." I had not certainly the most distant idea 
of exciting any unpleasant feelings in the breast of 
the author and composer of such song, whoever 
he might be, yet it led to a correspondence that is 
scarcely yet terminated. The song turned out to 



366 APPENDIX. 

be written by Mr. Charles Dibdin, jun r . of Sadler's 
Wells, and what I had expressed in the way of 
hope, he seemed almost prepared to resent as an 
imputation. I honour him for it, though he mis- 
took my meaning ; he obligingly sent me his song, 
and the music of it, accompanied with a letter, that 
does him peculiar credit, and though I have really 
felt myself much honoured by his subsequent com- 
munications, I have been obliged to withdraw 
from the correspondence rather than encourage it, 
solely on this ground, that my habits of life pre- 
clude me from taking any very active part in aid 
of such good purposes. I have a regard and re- 
spect for the Drama, a classical regard for it ; nay 
I may say, a moral regard for it ; many account it 
capable of doing much harm ; but if this be so, it 
must be surely equally capable of doing much good. 
To suppress it, in such a country as this, would be 
a vain attempt; to regulate it therefore is every 
thing ; to prevent it doing harm, to make it do all 
the good that is possible. A manager of a public 
theatre, is a person of great responsibility ; I know 
not how great. It gave me real pleasure to find 
from my correspondence with Mr. Charles Dibdin, 
voluntarily entered into on his part, that the weight 
of this responsibility was felt in the highest degree 



APPENDIX. 367 

by himself, as I am very confident that his only 
motive for engaging in such a correspondence and 
continuing it, must have been no other, than that 
of procuring the sanction, support, and encourage- 
ment of my particular sentiments on this head, as a 
friend to morality. He is pleased in his letters to 
call his theatre, a minor theatre. Comparatively 
with Drury Lane and Covent Garden, it certainly 
is so, in some respects, and so far his modesty is 
commendable ; but I shall venture to tell him here, 
as I have told him elsewhere, that in other respects, 
his is not a minor theatre, but perhaps, the very 
contrary. The greatest theatre of this country, is, 
where John Bull appears in all his glory ■ most 
free, and unembarrassed. The manager of such a 
theatre, therefore, has passions to work upon that 
require the nicest touch. Every sentiment of feel- 
ing ; every sentiment of glory ; every sentiment of 
patriotism; every sentiment of loyalty, John will 
feel, second, and sanction with his loudest roars, 
and warmest acclamations : but John can feel, in a 
good-natured, careless, happy state of spirits, sen- 
timents of a different kind. The pleasures of the 
bottle, the delights of women, the hurly-burly of 
riotous associations, are adapted to put poor John in a 



368 APPENDIX* 

fever in a moment, from which infinite mischief 
might ensue. Now, all these engines and machi- 
nery are at the command of a manager of any of 
our popular theatres, surely therefore the power of 
discrimination and the will to discriminate, in such 
cases, are talents and dispositions of high, nay, I 
may say, of incalculable importance. I think my- 
self bound to state that my private correspondence 
with Mr. Charles Dibdin embraces all these objects ; 
and though I am little likely ever to avail myself 
of his obliging offer, I feel highly gratified and flat- 
tered by the free admission he has granted me to 
his theatre, knowing the very commendable motives 
upon which the offer has been made. 

But I am obliged to this gentleman in other 
ways. His song, as sung by Mr. Grimaldi at Sad- 
ler s Wells and Covent Garden, has become as popu- 
lar as my Novel, and has received that marked dis- 
tinction of being transferred to the barrel organs 
that pass about our streets, so that " Thinks-I-to- 
myself/' has been heard in all parts of the metro- 
polis, and in some of our most celebrated watering 
places ; I have even myself had the satisfaction of 
hearing it hummed, sung, and repeated, as I have 
passed through the streets at night ; nay, a still 



THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF, 369 

greater honour has been conferred upon me ; a por- 
trait of Mr. Grimaldi has been exhibited in the 
print-shops, with the following inscription, 
" Thinks-I-to-myselt; Thinks-I," 
the burden of Mr. Dibdin's song. But as the su- 
perscription is so managed as to pass for a descrip- 
tion and character of the portrait below, I cannot 
help hoping it will be considered as a representation 
of myself: and as it is quite as like to me, as the 
portrait prefixed to my seventh and eighth editions ; 
and as it is remarkably gay and shewy into the 
bargain, I am induced to give an abridged copy of 
it, for the satisfaction of my purchasers ; and (as 
they say in Goody Tico-shoes, and other books of 
that kind,) SEE, HERE IT IS !— 

Tlunks-I-tQ-myself, TMnks+I. 



B-b 



370 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 

I think it right to mention, for fear of mistakes, 
that I commonly turn my toes rather more out, 
than is represented in the above picture, and that 
neither my pig-tail nor my whiskers are by any 
means so long. 

I have now said all I have to say for the present. 
I trust the two volumes are again become counter- 
poises to each other. I have a small favour to beg 
of those who have patience enough to read to the 
end of this Appendix, namely, that they will spare 
no pains in endeavouring to procure their friends 
to burn all the former editions of my book, and 
begin buying it afresh, since it is nearly double in 
point of matter, and the price not raised ; an excel- 
lent bargain in these hard times, and as the lottery 
gentlemen say, in their inveigling advertisements, 
and paragraphs, worthy every body's consideration. 
I have not ventured to alter a word of the original, 
notwithstanding all the criticisms and objections 
alluded to above, because I have too great a respect 
for the public at large, to question the judgment 
they have been pleased to pass upon it, in the ex- 
traordinary demand for so many editions ; spite of 
all the "incongruities," "puerilities/' "childish 
u nonsense/' " forced wit," " infantine simplicity," 
" vulgarity/' " affected humour," " needless di- 



TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSEJLF. 371 

Agressions," " mean contrivances/' " bad poetry/' 
u cruelty and ignorance/' " buttery and flummery/' 
&c; &c. &c. which a few individuals have fancied 
they discovered in it. I do not pretend to place 
myself above the opinion of any man, but I must 
say, in this instance, I feel already placed by the 
public at large very much above such criticisms as I 
have had occasion to notice ; and am perfectly as- 
sured, from what has passed, of these two facts, 
that what is wit to the witty is not wit to the dull; 
what seems entirely without meaning to the slow 
of understanding, may abound in matter for those 
of quicker apprehensions. 



June 1, 
1813. 



FINIS. 



Printed by R. Gilbert, St. John's-square, London. 



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